


Belle époque

by Ephy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Lucius Malfoy centric, M/M, Of OC's, hogwarts fic, previous generation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephy/pseuds/Ephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1966, Lord Voldemort’s first rise. Caught between his parents and the burning mark on his arm, Lucius struggles to live his life (5th to 7th year)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Belle époque](https://archiveofourown.org/works/755717) by [Fyin (Ephy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephy/pseuds/Fyin). 



The sky displayed a deep, cloudless shade of blue. The morning quiet was barely disturbed by singing birds and rustling leaves. The sunlight sneaked in through the half-opened window, softening the shadows.

Lucius couldn’t help but to notice how brighter the light was in the South, even that early.

A form stirred at his side and a young woman emerged from under the sheets. Her hair was but a shade darker than his. She stretched smoothly then looked at him with sparkling eyes.

“Barely awake and already lost in your thoughts?”

“I’m trying to feel the moment.”

After all, when could one be more satisfied of his life? A beautiful woman at his side, academic success – he learnt the day before that he obtained an O to all last years’ exams, and that he’d been chosen to be Slytherin’s prefect for the following year – and gifted with the name of one of England’s most prestigious families.

She laughed and came closer, her adult body pressing against Lucius’, still adolescent. In a month, he had got used to it, and he let his hand slide on her back, getting a purr out of her.

“I’ll miss you”, she sighed, breathing his scent. “All our customers aren’t that delicious.”

Lucius searched her face, wondering if she told this to all the men who laid with her. He decided against asking and pulled her closer instead. After all, he only had hours before his father arrived to take him back to England.

“I will most certainly miss you too”, he whispered in her ear, provoking another laugh.

“I don’t doubt _that_. But for how long? When school starts, you’ll have all the girls at your feet and I will be but a memory.”

However truthful, it was more a tease than a complaint. Lucius kissed her – at length, expertly, because she and the others taught him well – then granted her a smile.

“None of them will be half-succubus. Be sure I won’t forget our embraces.”

She wrinkled her nose mischievously, looking precisely like the half-demoness she was with that expression; Lucius could almost see two little horns at the top of her head. This was but his imagination though. Halflings, even first generation like her, never had any demonic attribute other than their ravenous hunger for sex, which predisposed them to a certain profession.

He had always thought that _hunger_ was a metaphor, but during the last four weeks he had the occasion to discover that succubuses and their male counterparts, incubuses, truly fed on carnal pleasure. Even if their human ascendance allowed them to eat more normal food, it didn’t sate them. When she told him he was “delicious”, it wasn’t a manner of speech.

The young woman sat, letting the sliding sheet reveal her perfect curves. In the same motion, she settled on his belly, shameless – she wanted breakfast and Lucius wasn’t going to complain.

“You learnt well”, she smirked. “On your first day you would have blushed like the virgin you were.”

“Wasn’t it the point of my presence here, Dona?”

The succubus slid her hand on his torso, appreciating the softness of his skin above muscles formed by Quidditch.

“I hope you’ll come back. If you’re bored, next summer…” She started moving in a very interesting way. “By the way, don’t you know Serafino Anghelis? He must be in your year, back at Hogwarts, isn’t he?”

Lucius grunted.

“I hope you have a very good reason to talk about him right now.”

She stuck out her tongue but stopped moving. Lucius sighed.

“Since you insist”, she pointed out. “I just wanted to ask you to pass on my regards to his mother.”

The teenager stared at her, but she didn’t offer any explanation, resuming her hips’ movements instead. He soon stopped thinking about questions while her eyes became golden with Hunger. She licked her lips, savoring the hormones produced by her touch.

“I wonder what you’ll look like as an adult.”

The door rattled. She stopped again as a second woman entered the room.

Lucius had enjoyed her talents as well in the past days. She was Dona’s elder sister and was called Afrodite, a name perfectly suited to her pale, sugary skin, her round breasts and the perfect curve of her hips. Where Dona was beautiful, Afrodite was gorgeous. Lucius wondered more than once why such a woman didn’t find herself a husband to get out of this job.

Afrodite walked in and nodded, satisfied.

“Sorry to bother, I was merely checking that you were awake. Abraxas will arrive in less than two hours.”

“I still have time for a snack, don’t I?” pouted Dona.

Afrodite folded her arms under her breasts and Lucius fought back a grunt. The two women looked at him, amused. The bloody succubuses could taste exactly how much he wanted them. Dona started moving before her sister could answer.

“Want some?” she asked.

Afrodite looked at Lucius then sat on the bed, unbuttoning her dress. The entire month of July hasn’t been enough to get used to the succubuses’ ways and the mere idea of the two sisters naked in his bed aroused him indeed. He forgot everything, even his father impending arrival, when the second body pressed against his.

 

***

  
Abraxas Malfoy was _the_ Malfoy. Everything in him screamed of authority, from his steel grey eyes able to bend any will to the stiffness of his back, the disdain of his lips or his perfectly cut robes. He seemed at ease in all situations; Lucius never saw him wince.

He hence hadn’t been surprised to find him sitting comfortably in an armchair, sipping a glass of wine while conversing with Mrs Terry.

Mrs Terry was the bawdy house’s tenant and Dona and Afrodite’s boss. The house was not theirs, though; it was one of the Malfoy’s French dependences, provided by Abraxas for the occasion.

Lucius had been hearing the rumors since childhood: during their 15th year, Malfoy’s males were _educated_ in order not to shame their ancestors. After all, they had to excel in everything. Lucius hadn’t given the stories any credit until his father announced he’d pay him holidays in France.

Abraxas was being utterly charming with Mrs Terry and she, in turn, looked at him with some interest. Since this was a familial tradition, Lucius wondered if they had been lovers, long ago, when his father had been his age. The thought was a disturbing one and the boy pushed it away as he entered the room, greeting them both politely.

“I thought to be on time…” he added, just in case – no one ever wanted to annoy Abraxas.

“You are”, his father said, putting his glass on the table. “I came early to offer my respects to the ladies.”

Mrs Terry nodded gracefully. Did she also have succubus blood? Hard to tell. Lucius didn’t have the privilege to touch her and, truth be said, he had been way too busy with the other girls to wonder. The woman had some kind of mature charm, with her spotless dress and her half respectable, half sensual looks.

“I imagine we’ll be going, now”, declared Abraxas. “Did you take your luggage along?”

Lucius nodded. They gave their last regards to Mrs Terry and took a portkey back to England. The shock was pretty hard – as always with long-distance trips – and the young man barely managed to stay on his feet. He recovered his balance just in time, thanking his good reflexes and years of Quidditch training, and straightened to meet Abraxas’ cold glare.

A shudder ran through his spine. What did he do wrong, now? There never had been any unnecessary warmth between them – he was the Malfoy’s heir, not the loved puppy of some spoiled lady – but still. He just came back from a six-month leave, only interrupted by their brief journey to France. He certainly didn’t had any time to lapse in the five minutes they just spent together.

“You’re back”, said abruptly Abraxas. “You were expected.”

Lucius frowned. Before he could ask anything, a known shape appeared at the top of the stairs.

Obviously satisfied, paler and stranger than during the previous summer, Lord Voldemort walked down to join them.

 

***

  
Lucius didn’t remember when precisely he met Lord Voldemort. The Lord and his father always knew each other or, at least, met way before Lucius’ birth. His visits, however, had been rare during the young man’s childhood; Lucius only knew the Lord as his father’s longtime friend and was vaguely aware he travelled a lot.

Then Voldemort came back to live in the United Kingdom. Of course, Lucius was at Hogwarts for most of the year, but the Lord had been invited to Malfoy Manor during the summer of his second year, then his third, when they were officially introduced.

That moment was hard to forget. Matthew Walters, Serafino Anghelis and Samantha Delacroix were present as well, all three Slytherins of the same year as he.

While Matthew and Serafino were from Old wizard families, the girl probably hadn’t been there by design. She was the only daughter of a French diplomat based in London since 1962 but, though they were wizards, none of her parents showed any interest in joining Lucius’ parents _circle of friends_. Samantha had only been included in the introduction because she’d been invited for the holidays – and the four of them had met the Lord together.

Lucius remembered the pulsing magic he felt even before the man entered the room. When he finally appeared, the Lord offered him a private smile, or so Lucius had thought – Serafino and Matthew later told him they felt the same way, as if the smile had been directed to them.

Then, the Lord had shaken their hands, finishing by Lucius, and had pierced him on his red, keen glaze. The fourteen-year-old had felt naked, occulmancy shields nonetheless – he had checked them, just in case. Voldemort’s perfect but too pale face had approached his. Hypnotized, Lucius would have let him do anything, but the Lord only whispered:

“Lucius Malfoy, isn’t it? You’re made of the same steel than your father. I’m sure we’ll get along.”

He then backed off, turning to their parents to congratulate them on their children. Abraxas seemed very neutral next to the flattered Walters and to Samael Anghelis, who watched the scene with a pleased smile.

Ever since, Lucius barely talked with the Lord, but still noted his omnipresence at the manor during his fourth year’s summer. Seeing him again wasn’t a surprise; learning he’d been waiting for him was.

The Lord greeted Abraxas briefly then went to Lucius, casting him an appraising look which would have disgusted him profoundly, had the man been less impressive. Docile but tensed, the teenager made a little bow.

“My Lord.”

“You grew up well”, declared the Lord in a velvet voice. “What a shame I didn’t have more time to spend with you until now… but this detail will be soon repaired.”

Not knowing what answer to give, Lucius remained silent. So now was the time to join this famous _friends’ circle_ … He guessed that time would come, of course, but didn’t think it would that early.

The wizard’s white hand brushed his cheek; Lucius fought not to recoil.

“Abraxas, would you leave me your son?” the Lord asked. “I’ll also need your office; the afternoon should be enough.”

Instead of taking offense like Lucius expected, Abraxas just nodded and escorted them to said office. It usually was the holy of holies; Lucius himself rarely entered it, and only when he displeased his father in a way or another.

A fire burned in the fireplace, courtesy of the elves. The Lord waved to an armchair which quietly moved from closer to the fire. He sat. Abraxas left wordlessly, leaving a stunned Lucius alone with the Lord.

However strange his father’s behavior, Lucius wasn’t impressed. The place was a familiar one and the bright light of early afternoon came from the windows.

Lucius stood straight and cold. The Lord looked at him for a few seconds. When the silence started to become awkward, he asked:

“Will you serve me?”

The teenager bit his tongue not to answer sharply. With a calculated indolence, he raised his eyebrows.

“Malfoys don’t serve anyone.”

He managed to suppress challenge from his voice, but the sentence was impudent in itself. By luck, the Lord didn’t take offense, seeming rather amused by his audacity.

“Good that I’m not some _anyone_ , then.” He raised a pale hand, with long, thin fingers. “I know what I’m asking is difficult to give. Be sure the reward will be worth the sacrifice.”

How exactly did he intend to repay his whole _freedom_?

“Is the power itself not enough?” the Lord inquired, reading the unasked question on his face.

Lucius decided once again in favor of boldness.

“Don’t the Malfoy possess enough power already?”

He immediately wished he could take those words back: he couldn’t be summarized at Malfoy’s name only and – however hard the admission – next to his father, he wasn’t worth much. Yet.

Nonetheless, his protest seemed enough for the Lord to answer with a demonstration. Lucius couldn’t help but to stare when he felt the older wizard’s power unfurl. The magic was dormant, unaggressive, merely floating around them, and yet…

Yet Lucius’ hands were shaking.

“You should know that Magic” and the Lord most certainly gave a capital to the word “doesn’t have limits. The power it can give you… that _I_ can give you…” His power stretched wide enough to brush Lucius’ body, closing around him, embracing him. He fought to stay straight, despise the sudden weakness of his knees. “Isn’t it worth submission?”

Sweet Merlin, the Lord had the same voice than a cat, had cats had voices. Cats? No, more like the purr of some big feline.

A spiral of pure magic stroked Lucius’ cheek, ghost of the Lord’s fingers. Once again, the boy fought back, not allowing himself to give up even a little. The Lord’s eyes glowed with pleasure.

“You’re most certainly worthy of me. So young and already you can stand up to me, showing no weakness. However, you still have to learn when to _submit_.”

Lucius didn’t answer. His throat was way too tight, and the magic surrounding him… no. Better stay silent.

“I’m asking for the last time. I suggest you meditate well on your answer before giving it.” Acoustic sensuality. Really? Or was the magic blurring his perceptions? “Do you submit, Lucius? Do you give yourself to me?”

He had to submit or to die. The Lord rose and, this time, Lucius let himself fall on his knees – but was it because he didn’t have any choice or because he couldn’t fight anymore? He whispered a “yes” and, before he could ask himself what would happen next, the Magic plunged into him.

 

***

  
To describe the ritual which left the indelible mark on his left arm was impossible. To bear the Lord’s pulsing power when he was simply standing in the same room had been difficult; when it sank into him, Lucius’ thoughts simply vanished, swapped away by raw power. His own magic was first overrun, then avidly tied itself to the Lord’s, trying to draw strength from the greater power.

Lucius was almost certain he moaned – but then, the experience was thrilling. He had been able to do anything, had had the world on the palm of his hand, and, most of all… whatever Lord Voldemort would have asked of him then, he would have given.

Afterward, he hated this moment with all his pride and rationality – in other words, the largest part of his being. However, when he pictured it, he could only shudder while stifling the part of his mind which was waiting for more.

It lasted perhaps a few minutes, or an eternity. Then, the Lord’s magic concentrated in his arm, burning him from pain or pleasure. During a second, his entire self converged to the Lord in a total, perfect connection. Then, slowly, the magic withdrew and he was in his father’s office again, panting, on his knees on the carpet, on his knees in front of his Lord.

Lucius hated him then, fiercely. Only the numbness the experience left him into prevented him from striking, with his bare hands, without even using his wand. The hatred thankfully flew back, leaving him exhausted but lucid.

Lucius got up, disdaining the wizard’s helping hand.

“I’ll be fine.”

He knew he should have bowed, kept his eyes on the floor, perhaps even kiss his master’s hand – and this word, _master_ , called up another wave of rage. He glared.

“I need to rest. We’ll see each other again – later.”

When he reached his rooms, he instantly regretted his own conduct. Submitting then would have helped later. Annoyed with himself, he dropped on his bed and closed his eyes, channeling his wrath into a more constructive emotion.

The Mark was still pulsing on his naked arm. When exactly did he roll up his sleeve?

Alright. So, he was now owned by the Lord. He didn’t have any choices in the matter; he still had to figure out how to use it. He racked his brains for a while. Nothing, nothing. Merlin, he didn’t even know what this _circle_ wanted! His father always kept him clear of them, except for his formal introduction to the Lord, two years ago.

Lucius sat up. His first priority was to get information – but before that, he had to make up for his bold departure. He doubted the Lord had been pleased with his escape. Left alone, when he clearly hoped to spend the whole afternoon in his company… That might have been funny if it wasn’t so dangerous.

The teenager used his wand to get some good clothes. He’d dressed properly on the morning but certainly not appropriately for such a great host. If he had to apologize – and Nimue knew that would be bitter – better do it right.

He slipped his robes, leaving the previous ones to the elves, and casted a spell to get his hair done and to refresh his face. Then, stroking nervously his blond hair, he went back to the corridor.

July was ending. August promised to be the worst month of his life – Lucius still ignored it would be followed by many others.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this was a test in order to see if my English isn’t too bad to actually translate my own work (and if the work is interesting enough to do so).
> 
> So please, let me know if you want me to continue the translation!
> 
> For those who don’t like to review, here’s the code:  
> 1) About the language:  
> A- Your English is fine! No problem!  
> B- Why do you even bother to try? I didn’t even understand what you wrote!  
> C- Well, you know, it’s not that bad. We can handle it.
> 
> 2) About the fic:  
> A- Great work! Moreover, Lucius is my favourite character, please continue!  
> B- We don’t care about Lucius anymore (or Harry Potter for that matter). Moreover, your plot seems sloppy.  
> C- I’m curious. Just do another chapter then I’ll tell you, okay?
> 
> So, your answer may simply be “AC” or “BB”.  
> Thanks for reading me ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lucius goes back to Hogwarts and we meet the other Slytherins... and the new DADA teacher.

The Lord kept his promise to _make up for lost time_ , which translated into epic duels in the afternoons and prolonged conversations about the true definition of magic in the evenings, when the dying light of the sun dulled the angles and quieted the heart.

Augustus flew by without Lucius noticing. He seriously felt like his brain would melt out of his ears if anyone asked him one more question about some obscure potion master of the XIVth century or the correlation between one true self and one’s Patronus.

Of course, his father had been teaching him since childhood, both in the restrained magic authorized by the Ministry and in her darkest sides – which the old families felt were their right to still use. It made Hogwarts’ academic program a bit redundant.

Yet he was used to study during summer the fields which weren’t covered by the school, from Latin to Dark Arts. However, even Abraxas had never demanded such hard work. The conversations might be interesting, Lucius saw September arrive with something close to relief.

He also felt puzzled. This intensive training – or should it be called a test? – didn’t lead to anything concrete. Voldemort didn’t seem interested in taking advantage of his newly acquired servant, nor in having him meet with the rest of his circle. Lucius certainly didn’t complain.

Either ways, Lucius found himself pushing a trolley in Kings’ Cross, railing against muggles and their bloody stations where one couldn’t properly use magic to levitate one’s bags. Of course, he was not supposed to use magic outside the Manor at all. The ancestral house was mostly beyond the Ministry’s reach but, outside its grids, he was supposed to follow the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery like an ignorant mudblood.

Abraxas had dropped him in the hall, frowning at the mess. His only farewell had been a brief pressure of his hand on Lucius’ shoulder before leaving. Fortunately, Lucius knew the place well enough to find his way alone – if the direction taken by the other wizards hadn’t been obvious enough.

They were so blatant. The Malfoys themselves didn’t bother to transfigure their robes – but not because they didn’t know anything about muggle fashion, just because they didn’t care.

He went across the pillar to platform 9 ¾, relieved to be back in the magical world. At last, the academic year was starting… He dragged his trunk in the train and took off his coat, under which he already wore his school uniform. He checked himself critically in the glass. His hair and robe were tidy enough. On his chest, the red “P” of his prefect badge sparkled proudly. He smiled.

The first part of the journey wouldn’t be very enjoyable, though. He headed for the back of the train to meet the other prefects, ready to hear about his new duties. Arriving, he was relieved to find Samantha Delacroix waiting for him with a matching badge rather than any other girl from his year.

“Happy to see you!” she greeted him warmly. “Summer felt excruciatingly long.”

“Indeed it did. But I thought you were to go back to France, this year?”

Her father, a French diplomat, had been sent to London for a mission of four years that had ended during summer. He’d left for Argentina, where the magical community faced serious politic troubles. Mrs Delacroix had accompanied her husband and they had planned to send their daughter to Beauxbâtons.

Samantha snorted.

“Who do you take me for? I made sure someone pointed out to them than switching countries in the middle of my education would be far too destabilizing, especially with them away.” She pouted with a lovely face, her big green eyes filling with false tears. Lucius applauded the performance. “I will go at aunt Monique’s next the summer”, she concluded.

“And they fell for it? I would have thought that, being your parents…”

“Dad is a good judge of characters but I’m his innocent little girl. As for my mother, she certainly had a good laugh, but she didn’t insist on me staying.”

“It would have been a shame to lose the occasion to marry you to a Walter, wouldn’t it?” Lucius commented. He had met Mrs Delacroix a few months ago and hadn’t missed the ambition glittering in her eyes.

Sam smirked.

“Matthew wouldn’t have left me, even if I had had to move out the UK.”

“You most certainly wouldn’t have given him any choice in the matter,” Lucius teased. “He follows you everywhere like a nice little dog.”

Sam opened her mouth, probably to defend her boyfriend’s virility – which, sincerely, didn’t need any help – but the Head Boy appeared, followed by his female counterpart.

Lucius and Sam gaped. This year’s Head Boy and Girl were a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff. What the hell was Dumbledore thinking? A new headmaster he might be, but certainly he couldn’t miss the reason why there was always at least one Ravenclaw or a Slytherin nominated? No sensible Slytherin would ever ask for help to a Gryffindor, especially a Weasley. As for the Hufflepuffs… Rolanda Hooch was reasonable enough but she was halfblood!

“Let’s begin”, declared Billius Weasley, sitting at the head of the table. “First of all, thank you all for being here in good time and welcome to our new recruits.”

He smiled to the two fifth year Gryffindors. Mary Briggs blushed under his gaze. For a pureblood, Lucius found her especially aggravating. Couldn’t she _try_ to be worthy of her name?

The Briggs had been a second-order family until Reynold Briggs, Mary’s father, had taken charge of the familial business some thirty years ago. He developed his parents’ little herbalist shop into a network covering most of the UK. A “Briggs” room had recently opened in St Mungo, obvious demonstration of his accomplishments. His daughter, regrettably, had taken after her mother – a cute but discreet trophy wife.

At Mary’s side, Frank Longbottom boasted, proud as a peacock. Lucius couldn’t help but imagining one of the Manor’s birds with his head – and snorted.

“What’s so funny, Malfoy?” snapped Weasley.

“Nothing, really. Except for Longbottom’s head getting bigger than he can handle.”

He got a few glares at that, though he saw a few hands raised to hide smiles. Rodolphus Lestrange, the seventh year’s Slytherin prefect, didn’t even bother, rolling his eyes indulgently.

“We’re not here to mock each other!” Weasley exclaimed. “As a prefect, you should on the contrary…”

“Couldn’t we just start the meeting?” Hooch interrupted. “We have work to do and I’m sure everyone wants to be done with it.”

Weasley swallowed his protestations, muttering under his breath. Hooch took the lead and started to summarize their duties to the new prefects.

Lucius listened attentively. Despite his mockery, he intended to assume his responsibilities as best as he could. Slytherins would need their support during the year and he could only be useful if his reputation was spotless.

***

Samantha fell on the bench more than she sat on it, sighing with relief as she clung to her boyfriend, Matthew Walters. Lucius couldn’t blame her: their patrol on the train had been trying, especially with the overexcited first years. He was glad to finally be able to join his friends, though it seemed only the boys had regrouped yet.

“Walters, Anghelis, Goyle,” he greeted while seating in front of the couple. “Aren’t Pearce and Duncan around?”

“They went hunting after the shopping trolley”, Matthew informed him.

“Does it mean Pierce stopped caring about her weight?” Sam commented acidly.

“Or she already put her claws in someone,” Lucius snorted.

Elvina Pierce was one of Howgarts’ most beautiful girls and very much intended to remain so. Matthew put his arm around Sam’s shoulders.

“I’m afraid she’s set on you, this year. How was your summer by the way?”

Everyone’s attention converged to Lucius, even Sam’s, who wasn’t very prudish for a girl. Lucius put on his most nonchalant expression.

“Well, not bad. I went to France in one of my family’s houses, and…”

“You know very well what we want to know about, Malfoy,” Serafino Anghelis cut in. “Don’t make us beg.”

“Really, I don’t see…”

“Now, stop pretending,” Matthew said, annoyed. “Just tell us. Are the rumours true?”

“I don’t have any interest in telling you, do I?” Lucius mocked. “It’s much more amusing to let these young ladies check by themselves.”

“And we certainly will, if you don’t prove too shy.”

Elvina stood in the doorway, shamelessly checking on Lucius. Behind her, Una Duncan looked aggravated. They pretended to be friends yet it was hard to find more dissimilar people. Elvina was fair and slender where Una was dark-haired and tall. Una’s face was not unpleasant but common, her jaw too strong to be feminine, and her uncertain charm was easily overshadowed by Elvina’s bright beauty.

One might wonder why she spent all her time with the blond. Of course, Slytherins knew better than to stand without allies at their back. Since Sam was always around Matthew, perhaps Una simply didn’t have a choice.

“Are you calling me prude?” asked Lucius. “Everybody isn’t as audacious as you of course, but still…”

Far from being offended, Elvina smiled. Her few affairs during fourth year were common knowledge within Slytherin. Entering the compartment, she sat between Lucius and Serafino, forcing the latter away.

“Would you want some sweet as an apology?” she purred.

“Stop before it becomes vulgar,” Una grumbled, settling in and handing on chocolate frogs to everyone else.

Lucius took one gratefully, jumping on the occasion to switch topic.

“Serafino, I almost forgot… Someone asked me to pass on regards to your mother.”

The young man blinked.

“My mother? – No, thank you, Una, I prefer sour sweets… – Coming from whom?”

Maybe Lucius should have waited to be alone with Serafino before bringing up a message coming from a succubus. Since backing up now would only make the others suspicious, he simply kept going.

“Just someone I met in France. A young lady named Dona.” Damn, he didn’t know her surname. But her sister’s name was original enough. “And her sister, Afrodite.”

He saw a spark of recognition in Serafino eyes, which he hid quickly by looking for some candacids in his bag.

“Oh. I… see, well, I’ll convey the message.”

Considering how embarrassed he looked, he knew either the sisters’ race or their jobs. Now, where did a respectable lady such as Jezebel Anghelis met two prostitutes? Unless Serafino had been sent there as well? The Anghelis family was at least as old as the Malfoy, even if it had originally been established in Italy. This kind of tradition might well exist for them too. Lucius noted to ask more questions later.

“And what did _you_ during summer? You certainly have some stories to share.”

“I stayed home,” Matthew sighed. “My mother caught a bad cold during July…”

“Poor you, forced to stay in Sam’s company,” Serafino teased.

The girl stuck her tongue childishly.

“I, too, was in France for most of the summer! Anyway, it wouldn’t have been very proper for Matthew to invite my without a chaperon, would it? His father is barely home.”

David Walters old exclusive import/export licences for most magical creatures, especially the rarest and most expensive ones. Such an important marked implied a lot of travel – and of course some quiet traffic of forbidden creatures.

As potion master, Abraxas himself frequently used his services. Lately, he had purchased a pair of ashwinders whose eggs he needed for his research. Their import had been restricted by the Magical Decree of the 11th of October 1847, after the Ministry discovered their scales were used in the _Desciscere pelliculam_ potion, which skinned alive the unfortunate victims.

“My holiday was splendid!” Elvina declared. Of course she would have anecdotes ready, or the shame would kill her. “We went to Spain with my parents and met Asdrubal Fernandes y Mercedes. You know, the egyptomagus who discovered how the _Rosetta Stone_ was used in a ritual?”

“Of course we know. So, what kind of man is he?” Serafino enquired.

“Well, _distracted_ , I’d say. He didn’t make a good impression.”

“Yet he comes from an old family…”

The food trolley arrived and Lucius rose along with Matthew. The travel was long enough for all of them to be hungry

“Don’t forget his mother is halfblood”, Lucius pointed out, counting his knuts while Matthew ordered a few sweets for Sam.

Pure gallantry on his side; even if Sam’s father was only a French Ministry’s employee, he occupied a position prestigious enough to have a comfortable fortune.

“She’s a perfectly correct medicomagus if I recall,” Matthew said, sitting back next to Sam.

Elvina shrugged.

“Sometimes it skips a generation, I suppose.”

“He’s still brilliant in his field,” Matthew insisted. “Distraction isn’t such a big flaw.”

Elvina laughed meanly.

“Are you becoming a muggle-lover, Walters? Samantha, if I were you, I’d be careful. He might replace you with a mudblood!”

“I strongly advise him against it.”

Matthew gulped audibly.

“I’ll be good, honey?”

Lucius smiled, listening to his friends bickering. Perhaps this year would be alright, after all.

***

He changed his mind as soon as they settled in the Great Hall. The mood was light, everyone being happy to be back in Hogwarts despite the courses, glad to see their friends again. However, Lucius was shocked to see the new professors.

Dumbledore had become headmaster the previous year, when Dippet had had to retire due to his failing eyesight. They hadn’t felt it too badly back then, but now… Professor Hansel, who taught Charms, had also retired in June. His replacement was perched on a big pillow in order to reach the table.

“A _goblin_?” Elvina exclaimed.

“Even halfblood, this is unacceptable! Lucius, you must write to your father…”

Annoyed, the young Malfoy waved at Serafino.

“I’m sure he would have prevented it if he’d been able to. As you know, he’s not alone in the governors’ committee and has always been at odds with Dumbledore.” That was true; but Abraxas could have warned him! “Perhaps we are overdramatizing. This halfling might be the new Defence Against Dark Arts teacher.”

Snorts were heard around the table. Rumour pretended the position was cursed and, since Lucius had started first year, the fact hadn’t contradicted it: no teacher had stayed more than a year. The situation suited Slytherins since most of them learnt about Dark Arts at home. They didn’t care much about mudbloods’ and muggle-lovers’ lack of knowledge in the field.

“I’d rather see _her_ teaching Defense,” Serafino declared, pointing the other newcomer, a rather handsome black woman with a scar on the left cheek.

Elvina frowned, probably because the woman sat next to Christian Fletcher, professor of Muggle Studies, who was cute enough to be only moderately despised by the ladies.

“She’s horrifyingly ugly,” she criticized.

“She’s impressive, but not ugly – ouch!” Matthew rubbed his harm, glaring at Sam. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’ll sit next to me in DADA.”

Lucius waved at them to be silent: the Sorting had begun.

“You _always_ sit next to him, in all classes,” Matthew whispered.

“Well, it will change this year, won’t it? We all took different options.”

“The inseparables didn’t bother to match their schedules?” Elvina mocked.

She shouldn’t have. Sam and Matthew might be very much in love but they were Slytherin to the bone.

“At least, _I_ don’t put my studies after an occasion to fuck,” Sam shot back.

Elvina’s mouth clasped shut just as a student was sorted to Slytherin. Lucius waited for the cheering to stop before leaning towards Sam, who was seated at his right – he’d managed to sit between her and Serafino, avoiding Elvina. He didn’t mind putting her in his bed but that would be when and where he wanted.

“What do you mean?” he whispered. “If you were just talking about her affairs, she wouldn’t have minded.”

“You’ll know soon enough,” Sam answered with a malicious smile. “It will make a scandal, believe me.”

Though impatient, Lucius refrained from insisting. Sam was stubborn and if she didn’t want to tell, there was no way to change her mind. He wished luck to Matthew.

Another student was sent to Slytherin. Lucius applauded while hoping there wouldn’t be too many first years in their House. After all, Sam and he would have to lead them to their dormitories and ensure everything went fine during their first night…

McGonagall, newly promoted Deputy Headmistress, kept enumerating names. Lucius was letting his gaze wander over the professors’ table when a metallic glitter caught his attention. It came from the black woman’s right hand or rather, the clamp which replaced her flesh and blood. The five curled metallic fingers were probably able to seize glass-size objects but certainly not a wand.

He nudged Serafino.

“It’s Kamaria Jones.”

“Mh?”

“Her. She’s Kamaria Jones, the Auror who was removed from office two years ago.”

Understanding blossomed on Serafino’s face, and his attention snapped back to the black woman.

“She was dismissed after her accident, wasn’t she?” he whispered, eyes sparkling. “She was a praised duellist, but losing her wand hand…”

“Yes, her spells were not as precise. She received a pension, of course…”

They snorted. The Ministry’s generosity was limited at best, especially when someone wasn’t useful to it anymore.

“She must be raging against them.”

Lucius nodded. With some luck, this year’s lessons would be interesting enough to actually teach them something.

“Did you keep Defence?” he asked, clapping for yet another student.

“Of course. My father would have killed me otherwise.”

Their conversation was cut short: the Sorting was over and Dumbledore was rising.

“Good evening everyone and welcome back to Hogwarts! As everybody knows, I like long speeches…” Laughter ran in the hall. “… So I will simply present Professor Flitwick, our new Charm teacher and presently the Head of Ravenclaw…”

Elvina and Una exchanged outraged glance. Lucius could only agree with them.

“… And Professor Jones, who will teach Defence Against Dark Arts, as I’m sure you all guessed. Another addition was made to our staff: Rubeus Hagrid will assist Mr Ogg, but he will arrive tomorrow only. ”

A help for the gamekeeper? After the ex-Auror and the half goblin, they could fear the worst.

“On those words, enjoy your meal!”

“As if we could still be hungry after such an announcement!” Elvina exclaimed while the plates appeared. “A half goblin, Head of House! That’s revolting. Lucius, are you sure…?”

“Positive.”

To prevent her from pushing, he filled his mouth with food – which was, anyway, as delicious as usual. He didn’t have to do so for long: Serafino resumed their previous conversation.

“Which options did you chose? Defence?”

“I had to,” Lucius confirmed. “I kept Transfiguration and Charms, as well as Potions…”

Serafino raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“You hate Potions.”

“My father… And it isn’t too hard anyway.”

Lucius cut himself a piece of lamb.

“What else? Not Herbology?”

“If you like wading through mud, I’ll leave it to you, thank you very much. No, I took Antic Runes, Astronomy and Arithmancy.”

“You should have been sorted into Ravenclaw,” Serafino snorted.

“Don’t tell me you took Divination or Muggle Studies?”

“Care of Magical Creature _is_ an interesting course and I never understood anything to Arithmancy anyway.”

Lucius swallowed a piece of meat.

“Oh, I forgot. I kept History of Magic…”

They made a face. Professor Binns was the most boring teacher of the school, but his course was all the more important that it covered the evolution of Magic Law, an essential knowledge for the heir of an old family.

“At least he doesn’t notice when we sleep in class,” Serafino sighed.

“That’s what quick-quotes quills are for,” Lucius confirmed, filling his glass with pumpkin juice. “Merlin, _ten_ first years? Couldn’t they be fewer of them? There’s only eight of us in fifth year!”

“Ah, _le revers de la médaille_! Good luck with your prefect responsibilities. Do you intend to leave the Quidditch team?”

Lucius cast him an indignant look.

“No way! Martins finally graduated so perhaps we’ll have a tolerable Seeker…”

“You mean, _less catastrophic._ ”

“That’s exactly what I meant. We might even have a chance to get the Cup this year.”

Not very interested by sport, Serafino merely shrugged and focused on his peas, which desperately tried to escape his fork. Lucius took the opportunity to clean his own plate with a spell, then to _accio_ piece of pie. Better to enjoy what little time he had for dessert; he wouldn’t have any left after dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucius wanted to hang the brats. By the feet. To the branches of a very high three. Why wasn’t there a Whomping Willow in Hogwarts?

“Think to all the times you’ll be able to get out without risking detention,” Samantha laughed.

She was much more patient than he.

“Peachy.”

Lucius sank into an armchair, annoyed and exhausted. Term had started on Thursday and he hadn’t had have one minute to himself – yet it was Sunday already! To spoil it even more, Elvina somehow managed to appear at his side at every opportunity. It might have been pleasant if she didn’t look so much like a hunting raptor. He well intended to let her stew a bit.

“Where are the others?”

“Well, Elvina will arrive soon…”

Lucius rolled his eyes.

“Just kidding. Though Matthew and Serafino _should_ be there s… Here they are.”

“So, how’s perfect’s life?” Matthew asked, kissing his girlfriend. “Not too exhausting?”

“Go to hell, Walters.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Sure you’ll keep up with Quidditch?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” Lucius grumbled. “I’m a Malfoy. Of course I’ll manage.”

Matthew looked doubtful. Since he was one of the Team’s Chasers – along with Lucius and a pretty good sixth year – he certainly had more business worrying about it than Serafino. As long as he didn’t mention this to the captain, though, Lucius didn’t care.

Obviously, it wasn’t in Matthew’s immediate to-do list because he stopped wondering about Lucius to focus on Sam. Serafino rolled his eyes.

“Take a room. Sam, you’re a prefect.”

The young girl stuck her tongue at him – again – but Matthew seemed to find the observation relevant enough to drag her away from prying eyes. Serafino took her place on the armchair, just in front of the fireplace.

The seventh and sixth years had deserted the Common Room for the evening; otherwise they wouldn’t have got such a good spot. The only other fifth year around was Mike Stevens who, as usual, was reading alone in a corner. Being halfblood, it would have been better for him never to be sorted in Slytherin – but, at least, he had developed excellent survival techniques. Lucius came almost to enjoy his discreet presence.

For the conversation he had in mind, however, he’d need some privacy.

“ _Coercere_.”

An invisible bubble wrapped around them, allowing them to talk without being overheard. Serafino rested his chin on his fist, elbow propped in the armrest.

“A problem, Malfoy?”

“I’m just curious. So, your mother knows Dona and Afrodite. »

Anghelis winced. He obviously had been expecting this conversation.

“Sort of. That really doesn’t concern you.”

“Come on, you can tell me…”

“No.”

The answer was too abrupt to push the matter any further. Lucius sighed.

“’ _No questions, no lies’_ , right?”

“Exactly.”

A pair of fourth year passed next to them, giggling, while heading for stairs. They were quite ordinary, so Lucius ignored them, but Serafino nonchalantly ran his hand through his long, black hair, almost causing them to faint.

“Wanker.”

“This qualifier applies better to Matthew. Or even to you.”

 “You dare pretend you didn’t play that for the gallery?”

“Well, looking like two frivolous teenagers allows us to talk about even more serious matters, doesn’t it?”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. Didn’t he just declare he didn’t want to talk about his mother? Serafino smiled.

“How was it?”

Lucius tensed.

“What are you talking about?”

“Not your summer in France, obviously. No, you know very well… You met him, didn’t you?”

“Do you really think the Common Room is the right place to…” Lucius hissed.

“Of course it is. Nothing would be less suspicious.”

Serafino glanced at the girls, who had decided to stay in the Common Room in the end, sitting back in their chairs. He cast them a smile – Lucius had to admit he looked perfectly inconspicuous.

“So?”

“If you don’t know yourself, there’s nothing to say.”

“Do tell! For me, it’s scheduled for December, at Christmas.”

His eyes were shining. Lucius shuddered. His classmate didn’t seem as reluctant as he had been himself.

“It’s not something you can explain,” he said at last.

The lack of details disappointed Serafino, but he didn’t push.

“Do you know if Matthew…?” Lucius risked.

“Not that I know. Next year, maybe.”

So, he had been the only one. Or did Elvina…? Or Lawrence Goyle? He had no idea and certainly wouldn’t ask.

“Don’t you dare to ask me such questions again.”

Serafino shrugged and rose, breaking the silencing bubble. Lucius expected him to go down to the dorms but instead he headed for the girls. Unlike Matthew before he’d settled with Sam, Serafino had never been a heartbreaker. However, he was developing an almost feminine grace which obviously pleased girls. Who knew? He might manage to get both.

They weren’t worth Dona and Afrodite, though. Or even one of them.

“You stay here all alone, Malfoy?”

Lucius fought back a wince when he recognized Clint Zabini, a seventh year well known for his genius in potions – and an unfortunate fondness for liquor.

“Clint. You came to claim for your seat?”

Being older, the implicit Slytherin’s rules allowed Clint to chase Lucius away from the best seats. However, the young man shook his head and sat in the armchair abandoned by Serafino. Lucius tried to stop breathing. For Nimue’s sake, the term barely started and he already stank of alcohol! How could Dumbledore allow this behaviour in his school?

Lucius pretended to ignore him while observing him from the corner of his eyes. Clint opened an old, worn book and didn’t pay attention to him. Or, at least, not ostensibly. He was a Slytherin too, after all.

Yet, he was so disgusting. Large and fat, he looked five year older than his 17. Moreover, no one knew about his father and he bore his mother’s name. People could only hope he wasn’t halfblood.

Clint’s podgy fingers turned the pages delicately. Lucius hoped he wouldn’t leave greasy traces on the paper. He waited a few minutes not to look like he was abandoning the place just because Clint was there, then rose – and his eyes met Clint’s sparkling gaze.

Lucius straightened dignifiedly and headed to the dorms. Lessons would begin the following day and he intended to be sufficiently rested to cope.

***

Lucius tried to keep his nose at least a few inches above his breakfast. He had had an agitated night and, regrettably, not for the best reasons: he’d awaken at about 4 a.m. and hadn’t managed to go back to sleep. He stifled a yawn, concentrating on his bacon. He’d need strength for his day.

While he chewed, the usual cacophony of the arriving mail started: vivid flaps, feathers everywhere… Why on Earth did the wizards still use such an unhygienic way to communicate? The teachers had probably decided that morning was the best moment for such a mess. At least, it awakened the half-asleep students.

“Don’t look so desperate, Lucius,” Elvina said. “We’ll all end up believing you’re not up to it.”

His uncharitable reply was cut short when an envelope landed next to his plate. Frowning, he put it away in his bag before offering a piece of meat to the eagle-owl which had landed on the back of his seat. Hard not to recognize Abraxas’ private mailbird. Lucius preferred not to read this letter in public.

He was racking his brain to guess why his father had felt fit to send him anything at all that early after term started when a shriek vibrated through the Hall. The eagle-owl flew away, offended. The scream changed into a whistle and a deep red envelope rose above Slytherin’s table, just in front of a blushing Una.

“HOW DARE YOU, UNWORTHY DAUGHTER!” the Howler yelled. “DO YOU WANT TO KILL US FROM SHAME, YOUR FATHER AND I? NO MEMBER OF OUR FAMILY EVER WAS SUCH A BLOOD TRAITOR!”

“By Circe, what is happening?” Serafino grumbled at Lucius’ right, not much more of a morning person than Lucius himself.

“MUGGLE STUDIES? HOW _CLOUD_ YOU?”

This time, the whole Slytherin table froze. Una had dared? Was she mental? Lucius rose from his chair, heading for her. His gaze crossed Sam’s, who wore a terribly satisfied smile. For a second, he had a doubt: did she register Una without telling her? The two girls didn’t get along that badly…

Sam pointed her chin toward a very pale Elvina, who was taking advantage of her neighbours’ distraction to hide a letter of her own. Lucius suddenly understood: so _this_ was why Elvina had shut up so quickly the other day when Sam had told her she didn’t put her studies before a fuck. Those two idiotic girls registered to Muggle Studies so they could moon over Professor Fletcher!

Lucius reached Una as the Howler started to tear itself apart. He caught her wrist before she could fly away. Professor Slughorn was arriving, followed by McGonagall. Lucius intercepted them.

“Don’t worry, professors. I’m sure this little accident will easily be solved,” he started, not giving them time to ask questions. “I’ll take care of Miss Duncan. We will write to her parents who will admit this is just a horrible mistake, I’m sure.”

A Slytherin’s prefect pleading for Una to stay in Muggle Studies could only move McGonagall. She gave him a sharp nod. Slughorn was a Slytherin and knew familial affairs had to stay private. No need for the whole school to get involved.

“Very well, Mr Malfoy. Don’t hesitate to come to me should the problem persist…”

“I will, Professor,” Lucius assured. “Una, if you will…?”

Una nodded. Her cheeks were crimson and her eyes burning with rage, but she followed him outside the Hall. Luckily enough, no Slytherin dare to comment. He glanced toward Elvina to check if she needed help as well but the girl frowned at him: she’d manage on her own.

Once they were far enough in the corridor, Lucius let go Una’s wrist and glared at her.

“Muggle Studies? Are you nuts? Your parents are going to kill you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Malfoy,” she retorted sharply. “My parents are not so stupid as to disown me for something this silly.”

“Oh really?”

He had reasons to be sarcastic: he didn’t remember even seeing another Howler land in Slytherin. Usually, only Gryffindors and some Hufflepuff indulged in such boisterous practices. Slytherin and Ravenclaw preferred not to wash their dirty linen in public.

Una blushed again, clenching her fists. Yet she lift her chin, an arrogant smile on her lips.

“My mother is Spanish knows how to humiliate others while pretending to make a gaffe. Don’t worry. The Howler was my punishment.”

“If you say so.” Lucius sighed. “Still, let’s write an answer. Better put all odds on your side, don’t you think?”

Una agreed. Lucius observed her as they walked toward an empty room. Well, she indeed seemed more angry than worried; it should be fine.

***

The letter was written quickly but carefully. Una might not be the closest of his friends and might have put herself in this situation, but Lucius still didn’t want to see her disowned for such a trifle. He helped her phrase her answer, as calmly and maturely as possible. They used the transparent excuse of wanting to know better the enemy and hoping to sabotage the lesson.

Of course, they arrived late for their first class. Everybody was already seated when they made it to the door for DADA course and Lucius could only apologize to Professor Jones.

“Don’t worry, Professor McGonagall warned me,” the professor said, clapping her metallic hand shut.  “Pray take your seats.”

Una went next to Elvina and Lucius sat with Serafino, who’d kept him a seat on second row. Good; Lucius was curious to see what this woman had to teach them.

Her name was written on the board and he could only suppose she’d already introduced herself. She started her course as he organized his quills and parchment. Serafino pushed his ink pot toward him. Lucius thanked him with a nod.

“Magic,” Jones explained, “has a complex and changing nature. Lots of diverging theories existed through the ages, from the four elements – originally a Greek theory – to the more linear one where Magic is defined by a grey spectrum. From the latest comes concepts such as White and Black Magic.”

The chalk was drawing on the board while she talked, illustrating her words. Lucius fought back a yawn. They already studied this in first year, when their teacher had wanted to give a definition of the Dark Arts.

He jumped when the chalk screeched, drawing a large cross on both theories.

“This is bullshit,” Jones declared deliberately. “None of them are compatible with what we know about Magic nowadays. It’s a fact and, even though the current great thaumaturgists don’t seem able to produce a replacing theory, some certainty are emerging. Any ideas?”

Now, that was more interesting, even if he didn’t see what precisely that had to do with DADA. On the other hand, each DADA Professor had taught this course with his own agenda.

This time, at least, it looked interesting. He exchanged a thrilled glance with Serafino over their common ink pot. Maybe this year wasn’t going to be _that_ boring, in the end.

***

Lucius fixed the message as if he could hypnotize it. He had forgotten about it with Una’s troubles. He’d remembered the letter only in the evening, when putting back his stuff in his trunk.

The message was brief: “Come home Saturday at 18,” then Abraxas’ intricate signature.

This was entirely unusual. Why summon him back to the Manor so soon? And without giving any excuse whatsoever? Lots of students went home during the week-ends, of course, especially the three first years, but he’d never had.

That had to do with the Lord or he wasn’t a Malfoy.

“What’s the matter?”

Matthew looked at him from the bed, his head resting on his folded arms. Lucius bit his lip. They were fortunately alone in the dorm, or he would have had to endure Serafino’s questions.

“Maybe. I have to go home on Saturday…”

“I beg your pardon?” The other Slytherin sat up, looing as shocked as Lucius felt. “And you say you _might_ have a problem? What did you do to bring Zeus’ wrath on you that early?”

Abraxas’ temper unfortunately stood the comparison.

“Nothing,” Lucius answered. “Which is why I’m worrying.”

Matthew darkened but, more cautious than Serafino, didn’t comment. His discretion actually made Lucius feel a bit better – and so he nodded, confirming Matthew’s fears.

“I’m not sure,” he added. “But…”

“But it can’t be anything else.”

Silence fell. Lucius had no desire to see the Lord again and his curiosity about the _fraternity_ was way less urgent than his fears. Gryffindors could pretend that bravery was a virtue. To clog one’s ears and eyes while pretending the danger didn’t exist was just plain stupidity.

“As long as he doesn’t ask you to go home during Quidditch’s matches…”

Matthew’ comment didn’t lighten the mood, but the attempt was still appreciable. Lucius decided to try as well.

“Let’s play cards?” he proposed. “Against you, I’ll only bet sickles, though.”

“Afraid to get fleeced, Malfoy?”

“I know how skilled you are with your hands.”

“Oh, certainly not half of it!”

Lucius rolled his eyes.

“Keep the other half for Sam and take your deck.”

Matthew laughed and stretched to reach his nightstand, where he kept his deck. Being worn by years of intensive use and costing barely two stickles, it didn’t need protection against thieves.

“Just an Exploding snap or are we calling Serafino to play something more… challenging?”

Lucius shrugged and Matthew distributed the cards. All the better: the game would be quick and intense. With luck, it would distract him entirely from Abraxas’ letter.

***

The week-end arrived way too quickly for Lucius’ taste. After September first twists, the week ended quite calmly and the days had pass without him noticing.

To Lucius’ surprise, Professor Flitwick was actually qualified, which largely compensated for his ancestry – in his eyes, at least. Elvina was talking about not keeping the course for her NEWTs. Coming from someone who chose to take Muggle studies for Christian Fletcher’s pretty eyes, Lucius found the idea most uncalled-for. He doubted she’d be half as offended if Flitwick had been half veela.

Lucius was finishing his last assignment of the week, trying hard not to look at the Common room’s clock. He usually didn’t work quite that much but felt the need to make his mind busy. Classes had been enough of a distraction during the week and Friday evening had been busy with Quidditch trials – an excellent Seeker was replacing Martins, who’d graduated last June – but Saturday had been stretching in endless hours.

He read over his dissertation on the influence of personality on a wizards’ elemental magic, then had to admit he was done. Matthew had disappeared with Sam after dinner and Serafino was reading an Italian book to work on his vocabulary. From fifth year, in the Common room, were only Elvina and Una, caustically commenting their Muggle studies’ lesson.

“Are you _sure_ they spend hours sitting in front of animated painting?” Lucius asked, annoyed.

Elvina straightened an imaginary fold of her skirt, smiling at him.

“I assure you it is the case. Apparently, it is one of their favourite activities for evenings and week-ends.”

“Professor Fletcher had a hard time explaining why they found it exciting,” Una said. “He’s pureblood, right?”

“Of course!” Elvina replied indignantly. “He was hired by Dippet himself, not by this muggle-lover of Dumbledore.”

“And that’s probably why he only teach nonsense,” Lucius grumbled, rolling his parchments.

Malfoy despised muggles. However, it was important to have a basic knowledge of their culture for business. The wizard community of Great-Britain wasn’t self-sufficient. Much of the food, notably, came from the muggle world. Purists like the Pearce preferred to forget that but Lucius himself was fully capable to walk in muggle London without being noticed.

Only pride pushed Malfoys not to dress properly to take the Hogwarts Express: they had to remind everyone that they had the right to snub everything and everyone, first of all the Ministry.

“Most mudbloods arriving at Hogwarts are surprised to see the pictures move,” he said to the girls. “Didn’t you notice?”

Elvina wrinkled her nose, apparently disgusted at the mere idea of sullying her pure little blue eyes by looking at _impure_ wizards. Una, on the other hand, agreed.

“I wondered about that during classes. Perhaps the device is simply different?” She checked her lecture notes without finding any answer. “I guess their paintings are not from real people. They might be shocked by the fact we talk to our ancestors’ imprint.”

It was a good guess as any, and Lucius didn’t have a better explanation anyway. He dropped the topic.

“I’ll leave you on this, miss,” he said, putting away parchments and ink. “You’ll tell me what you find, eventually.”

Elvina laughed.

“As if we’d really be interested in muggles’ culture! Come on, Lucius, you’re not serious.”

“Since you follow the class, you might as well take the OWL…”

“No thanks! If they’re stupid enough to fix a paintings for hours, good for them; at least, that way, they won’t bother good wizards’ work.”

Her tone implied she was well above those _good workers_. Lucius and Una exchanged a half amused, half exasperated glance. Then Lucius left; he still had half an hour to kill before leaving for the Manor.

Elvina was right about one thing: if Fletcher was stupid enough to teach such idiocies about muggles, Lucius certainly wasn’t going to lose time to wonder about the real muggle lifestyle. That wizard really was scum. A pureblood teaching about Muggles! Ridiculous.

He rinsed his quills then took the time to change clothes. Serafino raised his eyebrows as Lucius put on a robe way too good for a family meal. Thank Nimue, he didn’t point it out aloud. Lucius had no desire to give an explanation. He grabbed his portkey, a silver earring, and went up to the Great Hall.

Professor Slughorn had been warned of his departure for the week-end and had told Picott, the caretaker, to let him out. The man let him go without fuss. Lucius couldn’t help put to address him a condescending smile. He remembered too well the cane blows he’d received in third year over a stupid story of pinched candies.

A slim but persisting drizzle was spatting, outside. Lucius hurried and closed his cloak’s collar. He’ll probably be a few minutes early.

The portal let him out and, as soon he crossed it, he activated the portkey.

***

The bad feeling that had been building up during the whole week increased when he arrived at the Manor. The elf who took his wet cloak from him seemed worried, and stammered for a moment before telling him he was expected in the winter’s parlour. This room was only used for guests and, indeed, his father was in the Lord’s company – which wasn’t exactly a big surprise.

The presence of Theodric Nott and Cygnus Black, however, was. Of course, the men didn’t rise when Lucius entered. Nott even snorted. The idiot had only graduated last year – and with only seven NEWTs.

The mood was apparently not to evaluations anymore, nor to friendly discussions. Voldemort’s presence was overwhelming, sweeping away Nott’s and Cygnus’. Only Abraxas, at his right, remained as impressive as ever.

Lucius paid his respects to his father then, tentatively, to the Lord. The latter offered him a measured smile.

“How is term? Not too boring, I hope?”

“Truly, I’d say it’s full of surprises. You certainly know the new Headmaster think he can do as he pleases…”

“There’s no point in bothering our master with schoolchild’s stories,” Nott intervened.

Lucius cast him a cold glance, to no avail. Then the Lord commented:

“I asked him a question and consider it worth of my attention.” Nott swallowed. Voldemort smiled and turned back to Lucius. “I heard of course about his unfortunate choice regarding teachers. I hope it’s tolerable?”

“Surprisingly, Flitwick is actually gifted. A shame his lineage is so tarnished, truly.”

“Thank you for this observation. I will take it into account when I’ll deal with Hogwarts.”

The Lord’s smile turned feline. Lucius couldn’t supress a shiver. Not knowing what to say, he bowed, which seemed to put an end to the conversation.

Voldemort and Abraxas rose, quickly followed by the others.

“Cygnus, you know what to do. Theodric, meet us in the Hall within five minutes.”

Both bowed and left. The Lord directed his attention back to Lucius, serious and satisfied.

“Now is the time to prove your fealty. I’m sure you’ll be up to the task.”

The boy felt his throat tighten. What was he asking from him? Nott was an idiot but Cygnus Black, however vapid, was a sensible man, and he’d looked almost grey when he’d left.

“Would you allow me to come by, Abraxas?” The Lord put his hand on the patriarch’s shoulder, as if they were sharing some private joke. “I’d like to be there when your son makes his first offering to me.”

“You know you’re always welcome at my side, my Lord.”

“Perfect. I’ll be waiting for you, then.”

He left the room in a rustle of black cloth, brushing Lucius’ shoulder as he passed by. The teenager focused back on his father, who waved at a box laying on the table.

“Put it on,” Abraxas demanded. “Follow his orders without hesitation and come back here as soon as we’re done. Am I clear?”

Lucius didn’t even dare to blink. His father looked at him with his cold, grey eyes. The boy managed to keep a blank face and, after a while, the patriarch nodded, satisfied. Lucius allowed himself to breathe.

He opened the box apprehensively. Placed on the shiny black of a dress, a mask grinned at him.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucius heard a small _clac_ and jumped, then realized it was just his chamber’s door closing. He looked around incredulously. His bag for the week-end laid next to the wardrobe; his books were carefully sorted by author on the selves; his bed prepared for the night. Nothing had changed.

His stomach turned. He took a few staggering steps toward his private bathroom. Of course everything was still the same. And yet… He felt like the sky should have turned green and the grass blue.

Keeping his face blank, Lucius dragged himself to the bathroom and kneeled. Another spasm; his stomach emptied itself in the toilet bowl.

He gasped, thought he recovered, then the bile came back up in his throat. In a flash, he saw the corpse’s opened eyes, the Lord’s appreciative smile, Nott’s annoyed expression… He spat to prevent another spasm.

His hands were shaking but he managed to get up and rinsed his mouth and face. He avoided looking at the mirror. His reflect thankfully seemed to know when to shut up.

He took off his robe. Cloak and mask had been taken away by the elves when they arrived. He stepped into the shower.

In lots of books, when the hero committed something horrible, he wouldn’t remember any details afterwards. Unfortunately, reality was very different.

Lucius turned the water on and raised the temperature until it became so hot it hurt. Useless: his shoulders remained tense as bricks. He took a sponge and some soap.

The house they’d attacked had been lovely, with sky blue curtains and flowers at the doorstep. Thank Merlin, the children had been away – he didn’t know how he would have reacted otherwise – but the targeted couple had been there.

The Lord had whispered ‘give me this offering, my dear servant’. He had cast _Rictusempra_. It wasn’t a clean curse; blood had spurted, it had been horrible, but Lucius hadn’t managed to use an Unforgivable. Voldemort had laughed softly. Someone had grabbed his shoulders – his father? Cygnus? – and he’d let himself been Apparated back at the Manor.

The _guests_ had stayed for a moment only, not wanting to linger. The Lord had complimented them all then had left with Abraxas. Lucius didn’t remember what had been said to him. He knew that, on his father’s impulse, he’d kneeled and kissed the Lord’s hand. The Lord had put him back on his feet with another laugh.

Lucius suddenly realized he’d been rubbing his skin rash. The soap slipped from his shaking fingers, bouncing around the tub. He laughed nervously. No. He couldn’t afford to fall apart.

He shut his eyes closed, trying to hold back his tears. He had to be strong. If his father or the Lord realized his weakness… He’d rather not think about the consequences. The next day, he’d be going back to Hogwarts, he’d participate at this term’s first Quidditch training, and everything would be alright.

Better not remind himself this mission was only the first.

***

Matthew observed him from afar when he came back to their dorm on Sunday evening. While he did it for some time, he didn’t actually ask questions, for which Lucius was grateful. To rebuff him would have been unpleasant; worse, curiosity might have made him talk. _Sentimentality_ wasn’t in his habit but the cadavers’ glassy eyes still haunted him.

If the others had been intrigued by his week-end’s absence, no one let him know. However, Serafino hold out him a scroll.

“Here’s the books you’ll need for our Transfiguration assignment.”

They all had been scandalized when McGonagall had given them such a long homework so soon after term started. Lucius had totally forgotten about it but thankfully, he’d finished everything else on Friday. He’d thought to be back in Hogwarts on Sunday morning at the latest. Only the state of his nerves had made him stay at the Manor longer than first anticipated.

“Thanks, it will save me some time for my research.”

“I scratch your back and you’ll scratch mine, Malfoy,” Serafino replied, half-serious. “During our week-end in Hogsmeade, for example.”

“Ah, here you are!”

Lucius turned at Sam. She sat next to Matthew on the boy’s bed – chastely, as proved the book the young girl was putting down.

“You missed me?”

“More than you imagine! You’ll be on chore on Monday and Tuesday, mister prefect.” She made a disdainful face, which didn’t suit her. “I managed without you on a _Friday_ and a _Saturday_. Be glad I don’t ask you to take care of patrol for the whole week.”

“Wednesday, I have Quidditch training.”

She, of course, just snorted haughtily.

“I told you: I am magnanimous.”

He smiled. Yet the innocent care of his friends stung. Oh, he didn’t doubt they’d understand if they knew what crime he had to commit or, at least, they wouldn’t condemn him. He still felt dirty.

“I guess I have to hurry and borrow the books before the library closes… Or at least some of them. McGonagall will have to be satisfied with whatever I can produce with my busy schedule.”

His friends snorted. He slipped away and rushed past the Common Room, frowning as he read the list. Serafino had been meticulous up to the point to writing the code of each book, which indicated their places on the shelves. If he hurried, he’d be able to borrow them all.

The library was empty, as expected. At this hour, even the most studious pupils were in the Great Hall for dinner. Ms Pince glared at him despite his polite nod, probably fearing he intended to stay past closing time.

Ignoring her, he headed for the first shelf. Finding the books only took him a couple of minutes, and in ten mores he’d made sure they were actually useful for the homework – he hadn’t done anything to bring Serafino’s wrath on him but that might still have been an elaborated prank. Ms Pince didn’t relax when he checked out, but she also didn’t make any comment.

“Aren’t you being zealous, Mr Malfoy?”

Lucius almost dropped his books out of surprise. He looked up to find himself face to face with Kamaria Jones.

“Professor,” he greeted politely, lifting his books with a spell. “I’m afraid I don’t deserve the praise; I’m simply late.”

“At least I note you don’t use a summary made by others.”

Lucius almost frowned, offended.

“I’m capable of doing my own homework, Professor.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise… though a lot of students choose the easy way.” She walked towards the door. “Would you allow me to escort you? My rooms are situated near the dungeons.”

“With pleasure.”

It was only half a lie. This woman intrigued him, because of her story but also because she obviously had a fascinating professional experience.

“Did you already have dinner?” he asked, more to keep the conversation going than by real interest.

“I prefer to avoid the noisiest hours when I can.”

“Your responsibilities don’t give you this possibility very often, I suppose.”

“The same can be said about yours,” Jones pointed out, looking at his prefect’s badge.

“Some things must simply get done, unfortunately.”

The ex-Auror gauged him for a few seconds. Lucius couldn’t help but to quicken, hiding his embarrassment. It was stupid; she followed his lead without much difficulty.

“You’re right,” she said, before switching to another topic. “Mr Malfoy, do you know what pulls Hogwarts’ carriages?”

Lucius slowed down, baffled.

“Some powerful magic, I suppose.” He was sure he’d read something about that, probably in _Hogwarts, a history_ , but he couldn’t remember. “Should I know?”

She shook her head, her clamp-hand slamming one single time.

“No, of course not. Well, here we part; my rooms are on the left. Good luck with your homework, Mr Malfoy.”

“See you tomorrow, Professor.”

He observed her as she left, puzzled, then continued his way back to Slytherin’s Common Room.

If was only an hour and twelve inch of parchment later, as he was contemplating the Transfiguration’s books open before him, that he remembered: Thestrals pulled the carriages. And, now, he would be able to see them.

***

Precision, concentration and delicacy were the three essential qualities of a potion master, as his father had told him often enough thorough the years. Lucius knew he possessed all three. However, he hated potions. Probably because, on this field even more than in any other, Abraxas Malfoy only tolerated perfection.

After all, he was a master himself and published regularly on the topic, even if he wouldn’t stoop to practice in the benefit of others. Except for the Lord, Lucius guessed.

He turned his potion six times, counter-clockwise, then reduced the heat. He always preferred Charms and their different applications, perhaps simply to differentiate himself from his father. Yet, he always brought home only Os – and that was never enough. To please him, probably should Lucius have asked additional work, which he refused to do. After all, he produced enough efforts in other fields not to persist the one he hated.

Nevertheless, he intended to keep Potions for his NEWTs. Such an important class could only be useful to him. Besides, the low-lever potions required by the school weren’t difficult to produce. He took care of them quickly then waited for the class to finish without his participation.

Lucius mixed his potion again, clockwise this time, and extinguished the fire. It’d be ready within seven minutes, when it’d finish turning from red to blue. Its shade was already turning dark violet, so he wasn’t really worried about the result. He was almost eager to reach post-OWL level; at least he’d start learning something.

He looked around the classroom. For once, his comrades were not grouped by two – which meant, of course, than half of them was trying to cheat. Gryffindor’s half. Arthur Weasley was a total disaster, in potion as in most classes, and was desperately trying to glimpse his neighbor’s notes. Since his contained some kind of orange substance, he was failing spectacularly. That guy most probably was his family’s despair. His elder brother, however insufferable, had at least managed to make it to First Boy.

“You think he added some of his hair?” Una whispered.

She was using the table’s other half. She usually seated with Elvina – of course – but the girl had declared that potions were way too dangerous for her fragile little hands and slipped away at every occasion. No need to say she proved very imaginative.

Una was done as well and was taking a look at her notes – or was it a letter? It certainly wasn’t her writing, and it started with her name.

Unfortunately, Slughorn was coming this way.

“Magnificent, Mr Malfoy, as always. That might have been a little bluer, Miss Duncan and…” The professor frowned. “What are you holding there?”

Una had turned white as he’d gotten around the table to look at her cauldron and, by reflex, stuck her hands on the paper, thereby revealing it had nothing to do with the lesson. Lucius was tempted to let her manage by herself – if he continued to help her, the others might start imagining things – but she looked so frightened he decided to intervene.

“What… Una! For Nimue’s sake, are you not ashamed to poke at my things?” He pictured Afrodite and Dona naked on the Professor’s desk and managed to blush slightly. “Professor, may I retrieve it? This, hem, is mine.”

“May I know what _this_ is, Mr Malfoy?”

Slughorn was frowning. He was a Slytherin, after all. Lucius took the casual look of someone wanting to hide embarrassment.

“It is a letter I got.” He paused, as if he just realized that explanation was not enough. “From a lady, Sir. Please, spare me the shame to see it read before the whole class. To preserve her reputation, of course.”

Here, now everyone probably thought it was a soppy love letter. The extend of what he just did hit Lucius. Nimue, what the hell got into him? Couldn’t he invent a less… uncomfortable lie?

That seemed to work, though, precisely because it wasn’t like him to use such an embarrassing excuse. The professor smiled, amused.

“Pray give back to Mr Malfoy what belongs to him, Miss Duncan. You’ll see me after class so we can discuss the terms of your detention.”

Una grumbled an excuse and folded the letter before giving it to Lucius, who put it away without even glancing at it, then went back to his cauldron. He didn’t recognize the writing but it didn’t mean anything. Except Matthew’s and Serafino’s, whose writing he knew because he had studied with them often enough, he wasn’t certain to recognize any of the others’, even in Slytherin.

Slughorn tried to add a few words but, fortunately, most students had stopped working to look at the altercation and the first effects of this lack of concentration started showing: Weasley junior’s potion was boiling, big orange bubbles breaking on the surface. The professor hurried to lecture him, even if the boy was lowing the heat already, minimizing the damages.

A Gryffindor in trouble and a Slytherin more or less saved; that made his day.

The rest of the class passed quickly. He took his time to put his stuff away and managed to find himself alone with Una in the corridor. He held the letter back to her.

“Be more careful. Reading it during classes, really.”

“Mind you own business, Malfoy!” she rasped. Then she pouted, which almost made her cute. “Thank you anyway.”

“Provided the favour can be returned.”

He only said it for form’s sake, which she noted. Usually, between them, they tried to keep up to their reputations – petty, deceitful and other joyousness – but Lucius felt above that since his last visit to the family manor.

“Thank you,” she repeated.

She took a few steps forward. Then, reconsidering, she came back to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

And she left without further ado.

***

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose, considering his notes from Charms’ class. Professors seemed to have decided to pile homework on their heads. It was only October! None of their assignments presented the slightest difficulty but, put together, they took him a good portion of his time. Between this, his responsibilities as a prefect and Quidditch training two to three times a week, he didn’t have much time left to think – which, considering, wasn’t all that bad.

A little _plop_ rang when someone crossed the silencing bubble he’d cast so he could work in the Common Room. Matthew settled in front of him.

“Absorbed in your homework again? It’s like you’re doing that all the time!”

“Some people here like to have good grades.”

Matthew rolled his eyes.

“O in all classes isn’t just _good grades_ , Malfoy. I intend to score that to all my OWLs but I don’t care about all the homework our dear teachers may ask.”

“My father…”

“Wouldn’t die if you had some EE from time to time.”

Lucius winced. Matthew didn’t know Abraxas well enough.

His friend leaned forward.

“Even if that was the case, do you realize you should learn not to care? You’re building your own life, not his.”

Lucius shrugged; then tapped his wand on the parchment to dry the ink. He was almost done, anyway.

“I hope you have something else to say besides criticism, Walters.”

Matthew grinned. Usually, that expression on his face was prelude to trouble – for the others, of course.

“I found a way to make our free-time profitable in a both amusing and useful way. Since we don’t know what to do with our evening…”

“Talk for yourself.”

“… I suggest creating a club.”

Now, that was intriguing. Lucius stared at the other boy. Matthew kept smiling. However, his brown eyes were deadly serious.

Well, the _Coercere_ was still active, after all.

“I’m listening.”

The Slytherin slumped slightly in his chair and put his hands flat on the table before him.

“Since always it is British colleges’ tradition to see their members found _societies_. I suggest bringing that into line with current tastes by creating a _defence against dark arts society_. That would fit the current mood, wouldn’t it?”

Interesting, yes, but Lucius was already seeing several flaws to this plan.

“You’re talking about a duel club? Everybody could subscribe and they’d impose a chaperon. It would be a complete farce.”

“But, my dear, we’d of course be under the surveillance of a prefect!”

Oh, right. Yet Lucius didn’t care for the responsibility of any incident which might occur, and those were likely to happen. Between Houses rivalry and personal grudges…

“I’m not sure…”

“Don’t you trust us?”

Matthew meant their restrictive fifth year group. Lucius rolled his parchment and took the time to dry his quill.

“Of course I do.” More or less. “But we wouldn’t be alone.”

“None of the older Slytherins will want to associate with _kids_ and we can scare the younger away,” Matthew claimed, with a perfectly innocent look.

“What about the other Houses?”

Matthew’s smile widened, Machiavellian.

“I’d impose a five galleons subscription fee by trimester. They would cover the possible material damage caused by the society.”

This time, Lucius could only smile back. For any of them, it was a trifle, but for most young wizards…

“Did you talk to the others yet?”

“I first wanted to be sure you’d agree. The next step is to convince is Serafino, he’s the one I’ll send to Slughorn.”

Of course: Matthew had pulled too many pranks to be credible. Serafino Anghelis’ reputation, on the other hand, was still pristine. He publicly despised the stupid jokes played, for example, on Gryffindors, even if he might suggest subtle touches in private.

Slughorn wasn’t born yesterday; he’d easily get what they were getting at. Still, he might be delighted enough by their ingenuity to sell the idea to Dumbledore.

“Count me in,” Lucius decided.

“I knew you’d understand.”

Matthew’s suddenly serious tone chilled Lucius. They exchanged a glance, and Matthew nod.

“Whatever path we choose, we have to learn how to stay alive.”


	5. Chapter 5

The two following weeks moved by. Lessons became even harder than before. Slughorn met them one by one to gauge their future ambitions and orient them in their schedule choices for sixth year. Lucius, of course, declared he’d follow his father’s path and run the family fortune. Most of the others would probably do the same. Matthew, especially, had more than once demonstrated his abilities to carry on risky business successfully. He’d probably become David Walters’ pride and joy; the patriarch would entrust even his less legal business into his son’s hands.

The boy last fad had been as easily settled as if Hogwarts had always allowed the creation of select societies. A room had been made available for them, which walls were lined with spells absorbing any overage magic. The two first sessions had been supervised by Dumbledore himself in addition to their Head House.

Afterwards, Slughorn merely put his head through the half-opened door from time to time to check on them. A discreet charm casted on the corridor warned them of his imminent arrival. He always found them training quietly with basic spells.

When he wasn’t there, their duels were much more epic.

Serafino, Matthew and Lucius formed the core of the club, even if Lucius wasn’t an official member. He was, after all, supposed to be an unprejudiced observer, ready to intervene if anything happened. Sam joined them whenever she could and Una dragged Elvina along a couple of times. The blond had no interest in what she called _boys’ games_ , so she just watched said boys fighting each other with devouring eyes.

A bigger surprise had been to see Lawrence Goyle show up and, even more so, Mike Stevens. The halfblood usually took care never to mingle with their group. He had some difficulty to collect enough money to pay his registration for the first trimester – which went from half October to half January, a two weeks break being planned for the end of the year.

Stevens probably wouldn’t be able to pay for the second trimester. In the meantime, his last minute addition wasn’t rejected. After a trial, Stevens proved more than capable. He didn’t use spells of the same caliber than the others but managed to stand up to them anyway.

The club took place each Monday and Wednesday evenings – that was, for Lucius and Matthew, the days they didn’t have Quidditch training. Those sessions lasted two hours. When they got bored, they allowed themselves a warm shower and a refreshing drink before collapsing in their respective beds.

Thursday, 27 of October 1966, in the evening, after sustaining this pace for nearly a month, Lucius only dreamed of collapsing and sleep through the whole week-end.

Of course, that was impossible: Slytherin’s first match would take place at the end of the following week. When Matthew managed to touch him with a trip-spell just because he was too exhausted to cast _Protego_ in time, he declared he had enough.

“If you’d continued, you’d be kissing the ground by now”, Matthew confirmed shamelessly. “Good for you that our dear admirers weren’t there.”

“If that could dissuade Elvina, I’d grovel with as little grace as humanly possible.”

“Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be enough to counter your ravaging charm”, Serafino commented.

Lucius didn’t know if he was being serious and decided against asking. He casted a refreshing spell on himself and, because nothing could replace that, grabbed a bottle of water and swallowed it at once.

Goyle and Stevens were casting spells at each other. They trained at the other end of the room but still too close for them to have an actual conversation, which was a shame. He knew Matthew’s motivations regarding the club but hadn’t found the opportunity to talk with Serafino. And yet, the latest seems more than a bit enthusiastic about the idea of getting his own Dark Mark… perhaps training him was a bad idea.

Well, in the end, they’d fight on the same side, even if Lucius didn’t like it, and he’d rather see his back guarded by someone efficient. If, unluckily, they ended up fighting each other, it would be better for him to know Serafino’s techniques.

Lucius put is robe back. He had abandoned it on a chair at the beginning of their duel – they did so only when the girls weren’t there, matter of decency – then buttoned it carefully, fastening his tie with the ease of habit.

“I guess we’ll meet of lunch?”

“I ate already”, Serafino said. “I don’t like to change clothes twice after this kind of sessions.”

Matthew took the opportunity at once and raised his eyebrows, salacious.

“Really? And here I thought you liked _sport_ …”

Serafino rolled his eyes and lifted his wand, defying the impudent. Since the two other duelists were concentrated on their own fight, Lucius decided he wasn’t waiting for any of them and got down in the dungeons by himself.

A quick shower loosened his muscles and cleaned his sweat away. He got back up to the Great Hall where, at 8pm, the meal was ending. Fortunately, the elves were kind with latecomers and the closest plate was replenished as soon as he sat.

A few owls were flying here and there, taking advantage of the professors’ tolerance to deliver some more or less urgent letters. Lucius had barely started his meal when a dark shape landed on the edge of the table, making him jump. He turned pale when he recognized his father’s Eagle-Owl.

“What do you want from me now, Hermes?” he murmured, detaching the message carefully folded in its paw case.

Hermes’ only answer was to filch a piece of meat from his plate; its retaliation for not having been offered anything right away. Darkened by worry, Lucius waved at it to chase it away. The bird took off with a disapproval shriek. The young man ignored it and put the letter in his pocket.

He tried to concentrate on his plate but his stomach was knocked closed. He forced himself to finish his meal then went back to the dungeons; he crossed path with Matthew and Goyle, and nodded at them without slowing down.

Impatient, he unsealed the parchment while walking. Knowing his father, the letter wouldn’t contain anything suspicious and, to say the truth, he doubted anyone would manage to read anything over his shoulder.

The message was as brief as the previous one: _Be at the Manor Friday at 8pm_. Lucius felt his muscles tense. He didn’t have any doubt about the reason of such a convocation.

He arrived livid at the Common Room. By luck, the room was empty except for a few first and second years fighting over a sofa corner. Lucius managed to get himself together and went to the fireplace. He had to clear his head.

“You seem lost in your thoughts”, a voice purred.

He turned to find Elvina at her most seductive, her tie a bit unknotted and the two first buttons of her shirt open. Well, for once, he welcomed happily the distraction. He gave her his most charming smile.

“I was thinking life is so ephemeral.” It was only half a lie. “And I’d better make use of it when it was still time.”

“Really?” She leaned toward him, as to make a confidence, highlighting the curve of her breasts. The bitch wasn’t afraid of anything. “Maybe I could help?”

He almost paused. After all, he could do better than this opportunistic pest. On the other hand, he didn’t care about the _who_ and was just looking for forgetfulness. Better took it there than somewhere else. Who knew, she might leave him alone afterwards.

“Are you really ready to do so?” he whispered.

He used a playful tone but the question was serious: he didn’t want to bother afterthoughts right now.

As only answer, Elvina took two steps. Her soft breasts were now pressing against his chest. He felt a warm wave of desire.

“As much as you are. Could you start by giving me some details about your famous holidays?”

So that was what she was curious about? Well, if this rumor – totally justified for that matter – brought so easily pretty girls in his bed, he probably should enjoy it more often. He put an arm around her and led her to the stairs.

 

***

 

Well. That had been really unsatisfactory. Elvina, once naked, had just let go, like a bored Venus who deigned to offer herself to some mortal. She had taken no initiative at all. Lucius hadn’t thought Dona’s words would become so true – he missed the cheeky succubus.

Elvina had dressed and left as soon as it was done; which was fine because they hadn’t gone any further than fifth year’s boys dorm and Lucius didn’t want to get caught. His comrades would probably know about this but at least they didn’t see anything by themselves.

Or so he thought. He had been alone for a few minutes only when his curtains stirred to let Serafino across. Nonchalantly, the boy sat on the bed.

“If you sigh once more, the walls will collapse. Was it that bad?”

Lucius draw the sheet almost up to his chin, nearly blushing. In France, in addition to the two succubus siblings and some others women, two incubuses had been present. One was frail, almost feminine, with long, curled hair; the other was muscular with broad shoulders, a disarming smile and dark skin. Lucius didn’t approach either, first because he had no interest in them – however curious he might be – then because this misconduct would obviously have reached his father. Yet, he’d get used to see them wander and sometimes be present during his _lessons_.

Serafino was a entirely different matter. He was a dormmate, not some incubus he’d never see again in his life.

“I’m not sighing, and you could have waited a bit before asking!”

“I just got here and the door was open. I didn’t think I’d find you in this position.”

Elvina, the bitch. At least, that meant Serafino didn’t hear anything; Lucius would have been mortified otherwise. However, he intended to have his revenge for this behavior. She’d regret it.

“Yes, it _was_ that bad, since you asked.”

That was a start. The lady might found lovers less easily if such a rumor started about her – especially since Serafino was no idiot and wouldn’t tell his sources.

“Now, if you would leave me so I can make myself decent…”

“After your journey to France, I’d thought you’d be above such modesty.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“If you don’t want me to ask other questions about your French acquaintances, I’d suggest you to stop commenting about them.”

Serafino retreated in the most dignified manner he could manage, allowing Lucius to close the curtains and dress. He casted a refreshing spell on the sheets; the elves would change it the next day anyway but the spell would clean the most obvious traces.

With all these mishaps, he even managed to fall asleep without thinking of his new convocation.

 

***

 

Would it stop to make him sick, someday? Lucius hadn’t thrown up this time, but had still leaned toward the toilet bowl for several minutes, gasping. Again, a child had been present. He hoped this was just the Lord’s testing him. But he most certainly was.

Voldemort himself hadn’t escorted them, to Lucius’ relief; Abraxas had led the mission. It had been as brief as last time, probably because that would limit breaches in their alibis. An absence would be more easily explained if it had lasted only a few minutes instead than an hour.

Lucius didn’t wait for Sunday evening to get back to Hogwarts. He was slowly starting associating the familial manor to a possible encounter with the Lord and wasn’t sure he could take Voldemort’s charming whispers in his current state of mind.

When he reached the Great Hall on Sunday morning, right on time for breakfast, he immediately noted the unusual mood. The Gryffindor table was unnaturally quiet, emptier than it should have been. Students from other Houses gathered in small groups, whispering.

He saw then the _Daily Prophet_ leaning before several students. Ah. This was about what happened on Friday. He joined the little group formed by Serafino, Sam and Matthew, hiding his nervousness.

“May I?”

Sam waved at the free place in front of her. Lucius seated and served himself a light breakfast, since he hadn’t had any before leaving the Manor. Perhaps he should have had.

“The Tilly-Hearts couple was killed Friday night”, Matthew said nonchalantly.

“The _Daily Prophet_ reaches Malfoy Manor, you know?”

Lucius was surprised, though. He didn’t bother to read the paper the previous day and he regretted it. Last time, their little _escapade_ hadn’t been noticed even if it had caused the death of two people. Moreover, both couples had been halfbloods. What was different this time?

Matthew scrutinized him. Lucius finally noted Serafino was doing the same, above his plate.

“Alright, I didn’t read the article”, he admitted. “What happened to cause such a fuss?”

“Well, apart from the fact that their daughter is in third year here in Hufflepuf…”

“Spare me introductions, Walters.”

“A strange symbol was floating above their house.”

He turned the newspaper for Lucius to see the image, leaving him barely the time to put on a studiedly indifferent expression. Thank Nimue he did, because he recognized easily the skull and serpent adorning his own arm.

“Now this is some macabre farce”, he commented. “Did anyone searched about this symbol?”

“Journalists are having a tremendous time but they didn’t find anything concrete”, Sam intervened. “I browsed into some books without finding anything specific. Of course, taken apart, the skull and the snake are both powerful images which have many forms and as many interpretations.”

Matthew took a bite of bacon and tipped at the skull on the black and white photo.

“Well, not that many interpretations. I mean, perhaps it’s the circumstances but personally, I’d always tend to link a bone to Death, and that’s it.”

He was right, but who would know what the Lord thought about his symbol? Evidently this was his personal coat of arms, at least in Lucius’ eyes. The others didn’t know yet that he marked his servants the same way he did his enemies’ corpses.

“So that represents the assassin’s victory?” Serafino suggested.

Lucius cut a piece of bread and generously spread jam on it.

“It’s probably just some macabre farce destined to confuse the Aurors’ investigation.”

“I doubt anything can confuse Seth Prewett.” Una just arrived and heard the end of their conversation. “May I join you?” Lucius casted a suspicious glance around them. “Elvina is still primping herself”, she specified with a mocking smile.

“In that case…”

He gallantly pulled a chair out and the young girl settled down with a polite bow. Everybody smiled.

Unfortunately, this interlude wasn’t enough to change the topic.

“So, Seth Prewett _is_ in charge of the investigation?”

“Of course!” Serafino mocked. “Such a case deserves the Head of Divisionfull attention.”

“As if he needed the advertising…”

They exchanged knowing glances. Seth Prewett, at forty-six years, broke all career records within the Auror division. Barely three years earlier, he’d been parachuted at the Division’s head, after resolving some cases masterfully.

His twin elder sons joined him little after and everybody knew Adrian Prewett, their younger brother, would do the same them as soon as he’d get his NEWTs. As they came from a pureblood family, they weren’t entirely snubbed. They still were Gryffindors and since their family had only modest incomes – from their point of view – no one in Slytherin liked them.

Well, that probably _also_ had something to do with the painful mockeries lavished by the twins, Fabian and Gideon, when they were still in Hogwarts. They’d graduated when Lucius finished his third year but he’d still suffered his share. The permanent hostility between Abraxas Malfoy and Seth Prewett was common knowledge and the elder sons of the latest had decided to take part to the familial animosity, not caring about Lucius being much younger.

By luck, Adrian Prewett proved himself quieter, despite their adversity in Quidditch – he played Beater for Gryffindor’s and had already sent a few vicious Bludgers in Lucius’ Chaser game.

As for Molly, the youngest, she was in fifth year, like Lucius’, and merely casted some disapproving glances when he was being _too Slytherinish_ – nothing she didn’t do to the other members of his House. Since she was a most pretty girl, boys tended to _forget_ she was daughter and sister to Aurors.

Lucius shuddered. That wouldn’t last if the others also took the Mark. The animosity they all directed to Aurors, which they considered spoilsport, would grow exponentially when they’d have to fight against them for their lives.

“Lucius? Did you even listen?”

The boy jumped and turned at Serafino, who was frowning at him.

“My apologies, I was distracted. You were saying…?”

“Did you already invite a lady to this years’ Halloween ball? Those young women are dying to know.”

Now that was something he totally forgot about. Bad choice: it was socially important to have a suitable partner – and the ball was only two days from now. Lucius was forced to confess the truth.

“I forgot.”

“Don’t rely on me this time”, Sam warned.

Matthew put his arm around her shoulders protectively, making them all roll their eyes. During their fourth year, Samantha had asked Lucius to be her partner, just to get Matthew jealous. They were not yet an item back then and when she realized the boy was too busy chasing after _girls_ to care about seducing her, she’d decided to handle it.

Since it actually had worked, Matthew didn’t have any right to complain.

“Elvina would be more than happy to change her _dance card_ if you ask her”, Una suggested.

“Please, don’t even mention it. And you, do you have someone?”

Serafino snorted.

“We weren’t on another planet those last few weeks so yes, of course we all do. I am going with Natasha Alinovitch.”

A Slytherin’s fourth year whose parents escaped Russia during the revolution. Not exactly a great fortune anymore but still a several centuries old name. Anghelis didn’t exactly need more money anyway.

“Good choice”, Matthew approved. He, of course, was going with Sam. “What about you, Una?”

“I’m still thinking about my options.”

Lucius raised his eyebrows. Well? He’d thought her choice would be made by now. He remembered the letter he helped her to hide during Potions and wondered if it was indeed a love letter. In that case, perhaps was it from a seventh year? The writing felt mature from what he glimpsed – and that would explain why the boy couldn’t invite Una, being of age when she wasn’t 16 yet.

That might be useful. If he could convince her to appear at his arm, it would help him while allowing her to shine. After all, he was a Malfoy.

The downside was he just admitted openly he didn’t search for a partner yet. She might appear to the others as she didn’t get any offer by herself.

On the other hand, she owed it to him after the way he helped her with that very letter.

Knowing that Elvina would be choking on her own rage made it even better. He noted to ask Una as soon as they’d be alone.

The conversation went on without going back on Friday night’s events, probably because of Una’s presence. Lucius managed to finish his breakfast quietly then left his comrade to their teas and went to the dorms to put on his uniform and take his bag for the day. He was almost back to the Common Room when he crossed Professor Kamaria Jones’ path.

“You don’t have your uniform, Mr Malfoy?” she enquired, surprised.

A disturbing feeling knotted his stomach but he could only say the truth. She’d learn it easily enough and lying would only raise suspicion.

“I just came back from home, professor. Do not worry, my clothes will be more formal at the start of classes.”

She looked amused. Most wizard would consider the robe he was wearing formal enough for a tea to their grand-aunt’s on a Sunday afternoon. Malfoys never dressed casually and most of their clothes were tailored.

“I don’t doubt it even for a second. Do you intent to follow your father’s path and become Head Boy?”

“I’ll leave of course this decision to those who have to take it, Madam, but if I’m offered the position, I wouldn’t decline it.”

She nodded and took a step. He believed the conversation finished but she resumed after a few seconds of silence:

“It’s not the first time you go home this year, is it?”

Cold closed on him again but he kepta blank face.

“My father wants to follow my progresses, especially in Latin, since the course isn’t provided in Hogwarts since 1918.”

“A poor decision”, she approved. “We’ll see each other during classes, Mr Malfoy. I’m looking forward to read your essay.”

She finally went on her way. Lucius had forced himself to keep a light pace but was afraid to have grown pale despite himself. What did this woman know? And what did she want him to believe? He rarely had to deal with someone that cryptic, especially on such a delicate matter.

At least, this interlude had the virtue to point out a problem. From now on, he’d better go back home more often – twice a month, perhaps? Nimue that seemed so much! – to avoid anyone linking his absences to the attacks’ dates.

Until then, he’d never wondered about the ex-Auror’s House. He should be more careful; all Aurors weren’t Prewetts nor Gryffindors. He promised himself to check.

He only managed relax much later, when McGonagall’s Transfiguration lesson required too much of his attention for him to worry about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be kind, leave a review! ;)


	6. Chapter 6

The week started moving by even faster since Lucius had Quidditch training almost every evening and still had to patrol. Slytherin’s first match was just around the corner and, when he received yet another letter from his father, he was relieved to learn he was summoned only on the following Friday. His classmates would have hanged him from Gryffindors’ tower if he hadn’t made it to the game: they had a good team but the substitutes were not up to the task.

Friday evening, he went to bed early after yet another speech from the captain about how to score points by making the Gryffindors fume with rage. This tactic worked especially well on the Lion’s House: they always tried to do the same and went straight to foul, not managing to merely brush it like Slytherins did.

When Saturday arrived at last, Lucius forgot all about his problems to concentrate on one objective only: victory. He could grant as much to his internal teenager.

The girls came to greet them, Matthew and him, while they packed their things to head for the pitch.

“A kiss to give courage to the future winners?” Sam offered.

Her boyfriend kissed her quite indecently, not giving a crap about their audience. Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“Am I entitledto the samekind of kiss?”

Matthew put on an afflicted face, his hand on Lucius’ shoulder.

“Lucius, you’re my friend so, somehow, I’m going to miss you. And then, it would be a shame to play the game without you…”

“You really havenosense of sharing”, Una commented.

Matthew raised his eyebrows immediately.

“But, you know, in some forms, sharing can be very… ouch!”

“Oh, I’m so horribly _sorry_ ”, Sam simpered. “I really didn’t see your foot.”

“If you’re done playing the fools, perhaps we could go?”

Sam stuck her tongue at Serafino but they had to admit he was right. Lucius and Matthew hurried toward the rest of the team, their bags on one shoulder, and left the Common Room to the others applauses – and death threats in case of defeat.

Jokes and jests were launched on the way but, once the changing room’s doors closed on them, silence fell. Even their captain didn’t say a word until they were all ready, brooms at hand. Their team was brand new and heavy hopes were resting on the new Seeker’s shoulders. On the other side of the pitch, there would be a team brought together by a whole year of hard training. This match would be their biggest challenge.

Lucius didn’t really listen to the little speech the captain served them. He already knew he had to concentrate on the two Beaters: Kingsley Shacklebolt, fifth year, and Adrian Prewett. For the rest, well, they had torely on their ownteamwork – and, above all, on catching the Snitch.

Finally, the doors opened and they all advanced on the field. As always, that gave him a sense of power: the whole crowd was there for them. Even the insults coming from the red and gold’s made them important. After all, their whole attention was on them, however how negatively.

The captainscrashedeach other’shands. Christian Fletcher, young professor of Muggle Studies and today’s referee, made a few recommendations. Then he whistled and they all took off.

The wind, the crowd, the adrenaline, the balls flying all around – Lucius caught the Quaffle as soon as it was released and the game began for good.

 

***

 

Sometimes, life was great. Comfortably seated in front of the fireplace, between his captain and Matthew, a butterbeer in his hand, Lucius savoured his victory. He scored twelve goals during the game and avoided even the most vicious shoot of the Prewett-Schacklebolt duo. Gryffindors had been ridiculed and Slytherin reached the top of the ranking. Nothing could darken this victory.

Natasha Alinovitch, the fourth year who went to the ball with Serafino, sat on the arm of his sofa, babbling joyfully. The night would probably be as profitable as the day if he achieved his goals. She didn’t look shy and, in Slytherin, girls didn’t always bother with prudery. After all, life was there to be lived and marriage would tie them up to one unique person soon enough. As long as they managed to be discreet, no one made any comment about that within the House.

Of course, the agreeable torpor wrapped around Lucius couldn’t last. Bellatrix Black, Cygnus’s eldest daughter, came from a proud family but was cursed with a bad temper. Their parents were more or less friends – if nothing else, they regularly saw each other given their mutual lineage – and Lucius had the misfortune to be in her presence way too often for his taste. Two years his eldest, she was a spoilsport and a pest.

Her two youngest sisters were more bearable, although Andromeda had caused a scandal when she got sorted into Hufflepuff four years earlier. Narcissa was in third year Slytherin and already proved capable of simpering like no one. Her blond hair, unique within the black hair of her sisters and cousins, distinguished her, but Lucius only saw her during official dinners during which the youngest were requested to shut up.

A point Bellatrix never seemed to get.

“So, aren’t we lounging, Malfoy?”

“What do you want?” he asked, annoyed. “I’d thought a victory would have been enough for you to stop spitting venom.”

She had a piercing laugh.

“A victory? This was just a game. Come back when you’d really make something with yourself.”

She crossed her arms on her chest and looked at him superiorly, her right hand strumming the front of her left arm. Lucius felt suddenly cold. Of course. How foolish of him! He should have guessed that, if Cygnus had the Mark, his daughter would as well – especially one as flamboyant as Bellatrix, with an interest in dark magic.

What in Lucius was scientist interest became real obsession for her. The animals she’d wounded or killed with her experiments had been too many to keep counting – he remembered once having seen a crying Narcissa complaining about her cat’s disappearance. Cries had briefly became a grin of rage when she’d understood what had happened to her pet.

Lucius remained calm.

“Why, would you have some deeds of your own to relate?”

That put her in a bad position: she couldn’t tell about the Mark in front of everyone. Nevertheless, she raised her chin, determined.

“You’ll hear about me soon enough, Malfoy. Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other on Saturday? I thought I heard you’ll go home and, accidentally, so do I.”

Great. He could just hope he won’t be sent to kill people, _again_. Especially in her company. And there he thought the worst would be to be in someone’s service – without even thinking about the kind of orders the Lord gave him – but with _her_! That was just peachy.

“I’m sure I’ll have more interesting business to attend to than admiring your amazing beauty”, he commented. “Now, if you allow me, I have a victory to celebrate.”

She glared at him. Everybody knew her sharp, inelegant face made her the less pretty of the Black girls. She didn’t found anything to retort and handed a threatening finger at him, then strode off to his great satisfaction.

Matthew sent him a dubious glance.

“You’re sure that was worth it?”

“I’m quite sure it wasn’t but, you see, she did decide to provoke me. I don’t intend to let myself be walked over.”

He’d still take care to only eat what the elves would give him in the Hall for the sixth following weeks. His things, being in a Slytherin dorm, were already protected by several charms and if she tried to reach him by that end, he wished her luck.

“Lucius is right, anyway”, Natasha said. “He has more interesting things to do.”

The boy smiled at her and whispered lovely words to her ear. She leaned closer, highlighting the curve of her breasts. A few hours later, he forgot all about Bellatrix Black.

 

***

 

Six days later, Lucius had survived three attempts from Bellatrix to humiliate him publicly. After he found himself soaked to the skin ten minutes before DADA, she seemed to be content with that result and stopped the hostilities.

On November the 11th, 1966, he finally went back to a special session of their _defence against dark arts society_. Since the previous week had been dedicated exclusively to Quidditch, Matthew had suggested to meet on Friday in addition to their usual Monday and Thursday sessions. Since Lucius had to go to the Manor after dinner, he hesitated for a long time before agreeing; he’d just have to leave early.

But only if he managed to dodge Natasha. The young girl had been a most agreeable company during the week-end but started becoming a bit too persistent. Lucius was still looking for a way to get rid of her without offending her – he didn’t want her as his enemy.

The duels provided him with some distractions. At 7 sharp, he still had to declare he’d had enough for the day.

“Sorry, Serafino”, he said to his duel partner. “You’ll have to do without me. See with Matthew if he’d agree to leave our lovely Sam alone of a while?”

Sam kept him very busy indeed and, for once, it had nothing to do with hands work and all with her mastery of the most vicious curses. Serafino snorted.

“I doubt I’ll manage to unstick them. I’ll simply watch. You’re going home, aren’t you?”

Lucius nodded, ignoring the underlying question. After all, Goyle and Stevens were in the room. Serafino didn’t push and wished him luck.

Lucius casted a few refreshing spells on himself so that he wouldn’t look like some refugee and headed for the dorms. He was mostly satisfied with his progress. The training provided by the DADA _society_ wasn’t first-class but it still might save his life or, at least, prevent him from falling into the Aurors’ hands. Now that the Lord seemed to want people to acknowledge his existence, they would be much more attentive.

He greeted Una in the Common Room then stopped when she waved at him. She sat surrounded by parchments. Lucius pouted: she was busy with some Muggle Studies assignment.

“What is it?”

“I know you’re the perfect pureblood and that kind of thing has no interest for you but you do have some knowledge about this, don’t you?”

She wouldn’t dare to ask his help for _this_ class, would she? His expression must have been eloquent, because she rolled her eyes.

“I just want to check something. Do muggles run around with a ball each Sunday?”

“For some people, this description fits perfectly to Quidditch”, he pointed out.

“I mean, literally.”

Lucius raised one eyebrow.

“Of course not. At least, not that I know of. ”

“That’s what I thought. I guess they don’t waste time talking to a machine which doesn’t answer? The phane, phen…”

She searched for the correct word in her notes; Lucius finished for her.

“The phone? No, it allows them to talk to each other from afar. I have no idea how it works but it’s the equivalent of our fireplaces except, of course, it doesn’t allow to travel nor to see the other person.”

She nodded, wondering, and added a few notes in her margins. Seeing her focusing on her lesson again, Lucius left her to go down in his dorm. She looked almost interested by Muggle Study! Really, that was becoming ridiculous.

Moreover, the teacher didn’t seem to know what he was talking about – unless he did it on purpose! Dippet wasn’t as socially stupid as Dumbledore. Certainly he hadn’t been hired for his pretty face? Now that would be most morbid. Seeing Una getting interested with this lesson made him wonder if Christian Fletcher wasn’t using his sole weapon to make it interesting.

Aggravated by these thought, he showered quickly and put on better robes. Half an hour later he was entering the Manor.

“Welcome, young master”, an elf greeted him while taking care of his bag. “Your room, the mistress’ and the master’s have been prepared and cleaned this morning.”

“Thank you, Sandy.”

His parents had been having separate rooms for a long time, although a door communicated between the two. Their marriage was more of convenience than love – after all, she was a Rosier and he a Malfoy.

Lucius went up quickly to refresh himself then back down in the living room, just in time for dinner. Surprisingly, his parents weren’t alone: the Lord was sat at Abraxas’ right. Reluctantly, Lucius nodded.

“My Lord.”

“Good evening, Lucius. How is life going in Hogwarts?”

“As always, I suppose, although your last intervention shocked lots of people. Most students went home this week-end and most of those who were supposed to stay for Christmas will do the same.”

Voldelort nodded, satisfied with that answer, then turned to Abraxas to resume their conversation about some obscure potion which confection was lost a couple of centuries ago. Nervous, Lucius was happy to eat silently.

At his side, his mother looked very pale and avoided the Lord’s gaze. From what Lucius gathered, Voldemort had arrived in the middle of the week to consult their library – one of the best in England, especially in some folkloric subjects which caught his ancestors’ attention – and never left. Apparently, that was trying for Clotildis Rosier’s nerves. She hadn’t much temper for a Slytherin. Abraxas, on the contrary, was as calm and composed as ever and even discussed with an obvious pleasure about his favourite field.

Just the once wouldn’t hurt; Lucius cut the dinner short and left before dessert. The two men didn’t take offense, too busy talking with each other. Abraxas merely hold him back for a second, to declare:

“From now on, it would be better for you to come back home twice a month. That would be less suspicious…”

“… for potential cross-checking. I already thought of that.”

The patriarch nodded then turned back to the Lord. Lucius greeted his mother, wishing her luck, inwardly, and left. On the way back to his room, he bumped into Sandy again and a detail came back to his mind.

“Tell me, did you also prepare the guest room? Our host is of prime importance.”

The elf seemed surprised.

“Sandy thought no room would be needed since Sir wasn’t sleeping here. The room had been prepared on Wednesday but, since Mister Lord wasn’t sleeping in his bed, nothing more has been done.”

Lucius blinked. What did that mean?

“But he’s staying for the night, isn’t he?”

“Sandy would rather not talk about this, young master. Does the young master need anything else?”

Puzzled, Lucius shook his head. Well, probably the Lord stayed late to came back early in the morning. The boy went back to his room and, aimless, went to bed early. Maybe he should find himself something to read, if he was going to come back at the Manor that often. During the summer, he was usually busy since he could invite friends, but that would be tricky to do so during week-ends – especially if the Lord kept inviting himself.

Lucius turned and turned under the sheet. Then, a thought finally appeased him enough for him to sleep: no one mentioned any _outing_. This time, he wouldn’t have to kill.

 

***

 

The Lord wasn’t at the manor the next few times Lucius went back. At Hogwarts, some routine set up. One of the week-end in Hogsmeade was cancelled because of what happened at Halloween but everybody was pleased when Dumbledore announced another would take place on the 17th of December. The village’s repairs progressed quickly – all the more since wizarding families all over Great-Britain sent support in a way or another to their disaster-stricken fellows.

As soon as the announcement was made, everybody started making project. This outing would be the occasion to go shopping for Christmas for those who hadn’t the means to buy gifts otherwise. Lucius himself ordered most of his gifts by owl – a way among other to keep busy during his solitary evenings at the Manor – but intended to go to Hogsmeade anyway, at least out of curiosity.

He tensed when Natasha approached him on Saturday morning, flanked by her usual follower, Iudicaela Rosier, Lucius’ cousin on his mother’s side.

“I wanted to ask you a question…” No kidding. “Does Serafino go to Hogsmeade, this afternoon?”

His relief was perhaps a bit too obvious because both girls giggled.

“I can get it when someone turns me down, Malfoy, I don’t intend to descend to begging you, as good as you may be.”

“Mhm.” What else could he say, frankly? “I think he’s indeed going and he didn’t plan for company.”

“Perfect!”

She clapped then took her accomplice’s arm to drag her away. Well, that would be one less worry.

But now, who would he go with if Serafino was already in such a good company? He wouldn’t impose his present to Matthew and Samantha. They couldn’t spend the festive season together since she’d go to her parents’ in Argentina. Elvina was out of the question. Una, maybe? After all, he owed her for leaving her alone during the ball, even if circumstances were rather exceptional.

His decision taken, he sent a first year check if she was in her dorm, in vain. He looked quickly for her in the dungeons. Maybe she was already gone. Too bad; he’d try to catch her in Hogsmeade if he could and would simply go at the candy store if he didn’t.

After a quick detour to grab his scarf, coat and gloves, he headed to the school’s portal. Apollo Picott, the old caretaker, was standing about. Snow had fell during the night but it melted all around him under the effect of a warming spell.

“Good morning, sir”, Lucius greeted politely. “May I take a look at the students’ list, please?”

“Is there someone missing in Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy?” Picott asked, glancing at his prefect’s badge.

Lucius shook his head, rubbing his hands against each other to warm them. Perhaps he should imitate the caretaker’s example and cast some charms to his clothes. The cold was freezing.

“Nothing that important, I’m afraid. I would just like to find one of my friends and I’m not sure she left already.”

The man smiled meaningfully and, without hesitation, gave him the document. Lucius ran quickly his eyes over, thinking he should be careful; anyone would have convinced Picott just as easily.

Then, he found Una Duncan’s name, written in a decorative hand, a cross clumsily drawn right next to it. He kept examining the sheet, puzzled. He already saw this writing somewhere… In a flash, he remembered the letter, during Potion, with Una’s name written at the top of the page. It was the same writing.

He gave the list back to Picott with is nicest smile.

“May I know which professor wrote this?” he asked.

The old man’s sympathy turned to suspicion. He put the paper back in his pocket and raised the nose in a distinguished way.

“This, Mr Malfoy, is none of your business.”

Lucius thanked him anyway and headed for Hogsmeade. He already had a most essential piece of information: Una was involved with a teacher. And he thought he knew which one.


	7. Chapter 7

The week started moving by even faster since Lucius had Quidditch training almost every evening and still had to patrol. Slytherin’s first match was just around the corner and, when he received yet another letter from his father, he was relieved to learn he was summoned only on the following Friday. His classmates would have hanged him from Gryffindors’ tower if he hadn’t made it to the game: they had a good team but the substitutes were not up to the task.

Friday evening, he went to bed early after yet another speech from the captain about how to score points by making the Gryffindors fume with rage. This tactic worked especially well on the Lion’s House: they always tried to do the same and went straight to foul, not managing to merely brush it like Slytherins did.

When Saturday arrived at last, Lucius forgot all about his problems to concentrate on one objective only: victory. He could grant as much to his internal teenager.

The girls came to greet them, Matthew and him, while they packed their things to head for the pitch.

“A kiss to give courage to the future winners?” Sam offered.

Her boyfriend kissed her quite indecently, not giving a crap about their audience. Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“Am I entitledto the samekind of kiss?”

Matthew put on an afflicted face, his hand on Lucius’ shoulder.

“Lucius, you’re my friend so, somehow, I’m going to miss you. And then, it would be a shame to play the game without you…”

“You really havenosense of sharing”, Una commented.

Matthew raised his eyebrows immediately.

“But, you know, in some forms, sharing can be very… ouch!”

“Oh, I’m so horribly _sorry_ ”, Sam simpered. “I really didn’t see your foot.”

“If you’re done playing the fools, perhaps we could go?”

Sam stuck her tongue at Serafino but they had to admit he was right. Lucius and Matthew hurried toward the rest of the team, their bags on one shoulder, and left the Common Room to the others applauses – and death threats in case of defeat.

Jokes and jests were launched on the way but, once the changing room’s doors closed on them, silence fell. Even their captain didn’t say a word until they were all ready, brooms at hand. Their team was brand new and heavy hopes were resting on the new Seeker’s shoulders. On the other side of the pitch, there would be a team brought together by a whole year of hard training. This match would be their biggest challenge.

Lucius didn’t really listen to the little speech the captain served them. He already knew he had to concentrate on the two Beaters: Kingsley Shacklebolt, fifth year, and Adrian Prewett. For the rest, well, they had torely on their ownteamwork – and, above all, on catching the Snitch.

Finally, the doors opened and they all advanced on the field. As always, that gave him a sense of power: the whole crowd was there for them. Even the insults coming from the red and gold’s made them important. After all, their whole attention was on them, however how negatively.

The captainscrashedeach other’shands. Christian Fletcher, young professor of Muggle Studies and today’s referee, made a few recommendations. Then he whistled and they all took off.

The wind, the crowd, the adrenaline, the balls flying all around – Lucius caught the Quaffle as soon as it was released and the game began for good.

 

***

 

Sometimes, life was great. Comfortably seated in front of the fireplace, between his captain and Matthew, a butterbeer in his hand, Lucius savoured his victory. He scored twelve goals during the game and avoided even the most vicious shoot of the Prewett-Schacklebolt duo. Gryffindors had been ridiculed and Slytherin reached the top of the ranking. Nothing could darken this victory.

Natasha Alinovitch, the fourth year who went to the ball with Serafino, sat on the arm of his sofa, babbling joyfully. The night would probably be as profitable as the day if he achieved his goals. She didn’t look shy and, in Slytherin, girls didn’t always bother with prudery. After all, life was there to be lived and marriage would tie them up to one unique person soon enough. As long as they managed to be discreet, no one made any comment about that within the House.

Of course, the agreeable torpor wrapped around Lucius couldn’t last. Bellatrix Black, Cygnus’s eldest daughter, came from a proud family but was cursed with a bad temper. Their parents were more or less friends – if nothing else, they regularly saw each other given their mutual lineage – and Lucius had the misfortune to be in her presence way too often for his taste. Two years his eldest, she was a spoilsport and a pest.

Her two youngest sisters were more bearable, although Andromeda had caused a scandal when she got sorted into Hufflepuff four years earlier. Narcissa was in third year Slytherin and already proved capable of simpering like no one. Her blond hair, unique within the black hair of her sisters and cousins, distinguished her, but Lucius only saw her during official dinners during which the youngest were requested to shut up.

A point Bellatrix never seemed to get.

“So, aren’t we lounging, Malfoy?”

“What do you want?” he asked, annoyed. “I’d thought a victory would have been enough for you to stop spitting venom.”

She had a piercing laugh.

“A victory? This was just a game. Come back when you’d really make something with yourself.”

She crossed her arms on her chest and looked at him superiorly, her right hand strumming the front of her left arm. Lucius felt suddenly cold. Of course. How foolish of him! He should have guessed that, if Cygnus had the Mark, his daughter would as well – especially one as flamboyant as Bellatrix, with an interest in dark magic.

What in Lucius was scientist interest became real obsession for her. The animals she’d wounded or killed with her experiments had been too many to keep counting – he remembered once having seen a crying Narcissa complaining about her cat’s disappearance. Cries had briefly became a grin of rage when she’d understood what had happened to her pet.

Lucius remained calm.

“Why, would you have some deeds of your own to relate?”

That put her in a bad position: she couldn’t tell about the Mark in front of everyone. Nevertheless, she raised her chin, determined.

“You’ll hear about me soon enough, Malfoy. Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other on Saturday? I thought I heard you’ll go home and, accidentally, so do I.”

Great. He could just hope he won’t be sent to kill people, _again_. Especially in her company. And there he thought the worst would be to be in someone’s service – without even thinking about the kind of orders the Lord gave him – but with _her_! That was just peachy.

“I’m sure I’ll have more interesting business to attend to than admiring your amazing beauty”, he commented. “Now, if you allow me, I have a victory to celebrate.”

She glared at him. Everybody knew her sharp, inelegant face made her the less pretty of the Black girls. She didn’t found anything to retort and handed a threatening finger at him, then strode off to his great satisfaction.

Matthew sent him a dubious glance.

“You’re sure that was worth it?”

“I’m quite sure it wasn’t but, you see, she did decide to provoke me. I don’t intend to let myself be walked over.”

He’d still take care to only eat what the elves would give him in the Hall for the sixth following weeks. His things, being in a Slytherin dorm, were already protected by several charms and if she tried to reach him by that end, he wished her luck.

“Lucius is right, anyway”, Natasha said. “He has more interesting things to do.”

The boy smiled at her and whispered lovely words to her ear. She leaned closer, highlighting the curve of her breasts. A few hours later, he forgot all about Bellatrix Black.

 

***

 

Six days later, Lucius had survived three attempts from Bellatrix to humiliate him publicly. After he found himself soaked to the skin ten minutes before DADA, she seemed to be content with that result and stopped the hostilities.

On November the 11th, 1966, he finally went back to a special session of their _defence against dark arts society_. Since the previous week had been dedicated exclusively to Quidditch, Matthew had suggested to meet on Friday in addition to their usual Monday and Thursday sessions. Since Lucius had to go to the Manor after dinner, he hesitated for a long time before agreeing; he’d just have to leave early.

But only if he managed to dodge Natasha. The young girl had been a most agreeable company during the week-end but started becoming a bit too persistent. Lucius was still looking for a way to get rid of her without offending her – he didn’t want her as his enemy.

The duels provided him with some distractions. At 7 sharp, he still had to declare he’d had enough for the day.

“Sorry, Serafino”, he said to his duel partner. “You’ll have to do without me. See with Matthew if he’d agree to leave our lovely Sam alone of a while?”

Sam kept him very busy indeed and, for once, it had nothing to do with hands work and all with her mastery of the most vicious curses. Serafino snorted.

“I doubt I’ll manage to unstick them. I’ll simply watch. You’re going home, aren’t you?”

Lucius nodded, ignoring the underlying question. After all, Goyle and Stevens were in the room. Serafino didn’t push and wished him luck.

Lucius casted a few refreshing spells on himself so that he wouldn’t look like some refugee and headed for the dorms. He was mostly satisfied with his progress. The training provided by the DADA _society_ wasn’t first-class but it still might save his life or, at least, prevent him from falling into the Aurors’ hands. Now that the Lord seemed to want people to acknowledge his existence, they would be much more attentive.

He greeted Una in the Common Room then stopped when she waved at him. She sat surrounded by parchments. Lucius pouted: she was busy with some Muggle Studies assignment.

“What is it?”

“I know you’re the perfect pureblood and that kind of thing has no interest for you but you do have some knowledge about this, don’t you?”

She wouldn’t dare to ask his help for _this_ class, would she? His expression must have been eloquent, because she rolled her eyes.

“I just want to check something. Do muggles run around with a ball each Sunday?”

“For some people, this description fits perfectly to Quidditch”, he pointed out.

“I mean, literally.”

Lucius raised one eyebrow.

“Of course not. At least, not that I know of. ”

“That’s what I thought. I guess they don’t waste time talking to a machine which doesn’t answer? The phane, phen…”

She searched for the correct word in her notes; Lucius finished for her.

“The phone? No, it allows them to talk to each other from afar. I have no idea how it works but it’s the equivalent of our fireplaces except, of course, it doesn’t allow to travel nor to see the other person.”

She nodded, wondering, and added a few notes in her margins. Seeing her focusing on her lesson again, Lucius left her to go down in his dorm. She looked almost interested by Muggle Study! Really, that was becoming ridiculous.

Moreover, the teacher didn’t seem to know what he was talking about – unless he did it on purpose! Dippet wasn’t as socially stupid as Dumbledore. Certainly he hadn’t been hired for his pretty face? Now that would be most morbid. Seeing Una getting interested with this lesson made him wonder if Christian Fletcher wasn’t using his sole weapon to make it interesting.

Aggravated by these thought, he showered quickly and put on better robes. Half an hour later he was entering the Manor.

“Welcome, young master”, an elf greeted him while taking care of his bag. “Your room, the mistress’ and the master’s have been prepared and cleaned this morning.”

“Thank you, Sandy.”

His parents had been having separate rooms for a long time, although a door communicated between the two. Their marriage was more of convenience than love – after all, she was a Rosier and he a Malfoy.

Lucius went up quickly to refresh himself then back down in the living room, just in time for dinner. Surprisingly, his parents weren’t alone: the Lord was sat at Abraxas’ right. Reluctantly, Lucius nodded.

“My Lord.”

“Good evening, Lucius. How is life going in Hogwarts?”

“As always, I suppose, although your last intervention shocked lots of people. Most students went home this week-end and most of those who were supposed to stay for Christmas will do the same.”

Voldelort nodded, satisfied with that answer, then turned to Abraxas to resume their conversation about some obscure potion which confection was lost a couple of centuries ago. Nervous, Lucius was happy to eat silently.

At his side, his mother looked very pale and avoided the Lord’s gaze. From what Lucius gathered, Voldemort had arrived in the middle of the week to consult their library – one of the best in England, especially in some folkloric subjects which caught his ancestors’ attention – and never left. Apparently, that was trying for Clotildis Rosier’s nerves. She hadn’t much temper for a Slytherin. Abraxas, on the contrary, was as calm and composed as ever and even discussed with an obvious pleasure about his favourite field.

Just the once wouldn’t hurt; Lucius cut the dinner short and left before dessert. The two men didn’t take offense, too busy talking with each other. Abraxas merely hold him back for a second, to declare:

“From now on, it would be better for you to come back home twice a month. That would be less suspicious…”

“… for potential cross-checking. I already thought of that.”

The patriarch nodded then turned back to the Lord. Lucius greeted his mother, wishing her luck, inwardly, and left. On the way back to his room, he bumped into Sandy again and a detail came back to his mind.

“Tell me, did you also prepare the guest room? Our host is of prime importance.”

The elf seemed surprised.

“Sandy thought no room would be needed since Sir wasn’t sleeping here. The room had been prepared on Wednesday but, since Mister Lord wasn’t sleeping in his bed, nothing more has been done.”

Lucius blinked. What did that mean?

“But he’s staying for the night, isn’t he?”

“Sandy would rather not talk about this, young master. Does the young master need anything else?”

Puzzled, Lucius shook his head. Well, probably the Lord stayed late to came back early in the morning. The boy went back to his room and, aimless, went to bed early. Maybe he should find himself something to read, if he was going to come back at the Manor that often. During the summer, he was usually busy since he could invite friends, but that would be tricky to do so during week-ends – especially if the Lord kept inviting himself.

Lucius turned and turned under the sheet. Then, a thought finally appeased him enough for him to sleep: no one mentioned any _outing_. This time, he wouldn’t have to kill.

 

***

 

The Lord wasn’t at the manor the next few times Lucius went back. At Hogwarts, some routine set up. One of the week-end in Hogsmeade was cancelled because of what happened at Halloween but everybody was pleased when Dumbledore announced another would take place on the 17th of December. The village’s repairs progressed quickly – all the more since wizarding families all over Great-Britain sent support in a way or another to their disaster-stricken fellows.

As soon as the announcement was made, everybody started making project. This outing would be the occasion to go shopping for Christmas for those who hadn’t the means to buy gifts otherwise. Lucius himself ordered most of his gifts by owl – a way among other to keep busy during his solitary evenings at the Manor – but intended to go to Hogsmeade anyway, at least out of curiosity.

He tensed when Natasha approached him on Saturday morning, flanked by her usual follower, Iudicaela Rosier, Lucius’ cousin on his mother’s side.

“I wanted to ask you a question…” No kidding. “Does Serafino go to Hogsmeade, this afternoon?”

His relief was perhaps a bit too obvious because both girls giggled.

“I can get it when someone turns me down, Malfoy, I don’t intend to descend to begging you, as good as you may be.”

“Mhm.” What else could he say, frankly? “I think he’s indeed going and he didn’t plan for company.”

“Perfect!”

She clapped then took her accomplice’s arm to drag her away. Well, that would be one less worry.

But now, who would he go with if Serafino was already in such a good company? He wouldn’t impose his present to Matthew and Samantha. They couldn’t spend the festive season together since she’d go to her parents’ in Argentina. Elvina was out of the question. Una, maybe? After all, he owed her for leaving her alone during the ball, even if circumstances were rather exceptional.

His decision taken, he sent a first year check if she was in her dorm, in vain. He looked quickly for her in the dungeons. Maybe she was already gone. Too bad; he’d try to catch her in Hogsmeade if he could and would simply go at the candy store if he didn’t.

After a quick detour to grab his scarf, coat and gloves, he headed to the school’s portal. Apollo Picott, the old caretaker, was standing about. Snow had fell during the night but it melted all around him under the effect of a warming spell.

“Good morning, sir”, Lucius greeted politely. “May I take a look at the students’ list, please?”

“Is there someone missing in Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy?” Picott asked, glancing at his prefect’s badge.

Lucius shook his head, rubbing his hands against each other to warm them. Perhaps he should imitate the caretaker’s example and cast some charms to his clothes. The cold was freezing.

“Nothing that important, I’m afraid. I would just like to find one of my friends and I’m not sure she left already.”

The man smiled meaningfully and, without hesitation, gave him the document. Lucius ran quickly his eyes over, thinking he should be careful; anyone would have convinced Picott just as easily.

Then, he found Una Duncan’s name, written in a decorative hand, a cross clumsily drawn right next to it. He kept examining the sheet, puzzled. He already saw this writing somewhere… In a flash, he remembered the letter, during Potion, with Una’s name written at the top of the page. It was the same writing.

He gave the list back to Picott with is nicest smile.

“May I know which professor wrote this?” he asked.

The old man’s sympathy turned to suspicion. He put the paper back in his pocket and raised the nose in a distinguished way.

“This, Mr Malfoy, is none of your business.”

Lucius thanked him anyway and headed for Hogsmeade. He already had a most essential piece of information: Una was involved with a teacher. And he thought he knew which one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter :) Don't hesitate to point out my spelling mistakes!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back :) I corrected some mistakes in the first chapters and, hopefully, this one shouldn't have too many. Please don't hesitate to point them out if you find any!
> 
> I'll continue to publish one chapter by week until I catch up with French updates, after which I'll update every two weeks like in French.
> 
> Just so you know, chapter 9 is already half translated; French publication is at chapter 12; and I already wrote as far as chapter 17, which mark the end of Lucius' 5th year. So you still have a lot to read :)
> 
> I hope you're enjoying my version of Lucius and of the other characters, and that you enjoy my numerous OC's. Please let me know what you think about them! ^^

Despite the recent events, Hogsmeade managed to put on a festive mood. The usual decoration waved on the shops, greeting the passers-by when they approached. Additional lights were hanging everywhere. However, whenever you got out of the commercial alleys, windows were closed and streets empty. Not exactly reassuring.

Fortunately, Lucius didn’t have to look for Una: he found her next to the candy shop, talking sweets with the entrance banderol’s sprites.

“Sorry to interrupt such an interesting conversation, but we must talk.”

The young woman raised her eyebrows at such a cavalier introduction.

“Thank you for your advices”, she said to the sprites. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m done with this boor.”

Lucius’ outraged air stole a smile from her, but he went back to serious after few steps.

“ _Coercere sectari_. Let’s walk, the silencing bubble will follow.”

“What do you have to tell me to take such precautions?” she wondered. “Bellatrix stroke again?”

“If that was the case, I’d be making myself ready for war and let everybody know how horrible my revenge would be. No, this concerns you more directly.”

Una pointed at the tearoom nearby.

“Can’t we talk about this inside? It’s freezing.”

Lucius nodded; he hadn’t cared about charming his clothes.

“I’m buying”, he declared, remembering his first intention. “But that won’t keep me from telling you what I have to say.”

Una looked puzzled. She followed him inside and they gossiped until they received their drinks – a fruit tea for her, a pure _Lady Grey_ for him. He casted _Coercere_ once again.

“Do you realize the risks you’re taking by dating a teacher?”

She nearly burned herself with her tea and put her cup back on the table.

“ _That_ is what you wanted to talk about?” she exclaimed.

“What did you expect? Me succumbing to your charms?”

“That would have flattered my ego”, she pouted with an expression very much like Elvina’s.

Lucius rolled his eyes and tapped the sugar bowl with his wand so it would serve him the exact amount of sugar he wanted – half a teaspoon, just enough to lessen the bitterness.

“Not only he’s a professor – when you’re not even of age, do I have to point it out? – but he’s in charge of _Muggle studies_! Your mother would kill you if she knew.”

“I don’t intend to make it public, you idiot. Except for the letter accident, which everybody forgot about except for you, I didn’t get caught. I can assure you his letters don’t stay in one piece for long.”

He turned his spoon in his cup, aggravated. At least he’d been right by betting on Christian Fletcher – but then, what other professor could it be? Most of them were old enough to be their grand-parents.

“Do you realize he risks Azkaban and you, your reputation, which is even worse?”

Una laughed, venturing to take another sip even if her tea was still steaming.

“It’s sweet that you worry but I assure you don’t have to. I’m just having fun.”

“You have dangerous passions.”

“Says the one who like to avoid _Buglars_ ten feet above the ground!”

Lucius tasted his tea and, finding insufficiently creamy, poured in some milk.

“It’s not the same at all.”

“You’re right”, she mocked. “You only risksmashingyour skull.”

His drink at last accorded to his taste, he sipped it.

“Since you refuse to hear reason, I won’t insist. Still, be careful.”

“I’m a big girl”, Una declared, raising her eyebrows at his game with the tea. “Does all Englishmen make it such a ceremony?”

“You have to savour this kind of drink.”

“With _milk_?”

“Doesn’t your father do the same?”

She made a face and put her cup under her nose, as to avoid a particularly bad smell.

“Yes, and I never understood.”

Lucius shrugged. There was nothing to explain, it was a matter of taste.

Since the most dangerous part of their conversation ended, he lifted the _Coercere_ and talked about lighter topics. After all, he did his duty: he’d pointed out the dangers of her behaviour. If she didn’t want to listen, well – as she said, she was big enough to take care of herself.

 

***

 

In the evening, Lucius remembered his investigation in the library about Kamaria Jones and the Lord. He hadn’t tried anything else after this aborted tentative, yet he intended to discover whatever secret existed within _Voldemort_ ’s name. However, getting into this kind of research alone would make it even longer and more dangerous.

Stevens was out of the question, of course, and he didn’t know Goyle well enough to trust him even if, given his family, he was likely to get marked. Serafino might have been up to the task but the fascination he manifested toward the ceremony to come made Lucius reluctant. As for the girls…

Elvina would be perfectly capable to put spoke in his heels while pretending to help. He might have asked Una but her fancy with Fletcher disqualified her in his eyes.

Therefore his choice came down to Matthew, his usual _partner in crime_. He walked to the canopy where the boy was reading and knocked on one of the wooden pillars.

“Sorry to bother you. May I…?”

Matthew motioned him to sit down and closed his book. Lucius red the title by rote; then he did it again to be sure he’d got it right: Shakespeare’s _Richard III_.

“A muggle author of theatre?”

“One of the best”, Matthew retorted shamelessly. “Even you recognized the name.”

Lucius had to agree. He settled on the bed.

“So, what do you want?”

“Well, I need some help for a delicate operation which must be concluded discreetly.”

Matthew stared at him in surprise. It was rare to see him admit he couldn’t get something by himself.

“I can help of course… What is it about?”

“I have to warn you first: it has to do about, let’s say, something someone want to hide, at least I think so. And this person is dangerous. Very dangerous.”

The other boy took his wand straight away to cast _Coercere_.

“Is this linked to…?”

Lucius nodded seriously. Following his friend’s silent invitation, he sat next to him on the bed, trying not to think about how this looked like from the outside.

“His name is a fake one and yet he was in Hogwarts, of that I’m almost sure. I want to know who he is.”

“Risky indeed. How are you planning to go about it?”

“I already poked around the albums of different promotions to check on something else. Unfortunately, if I do that again, it would become really suspicious.”

Matthew grinned.

“Except if no one notices, you mean.”

“Do you have an idea? I don’t think going on the library after curfew is much better than going during the day. If we get caught, it would be even more noticeable.”

“But if we borrow the books one by one after transforming them, that would make it simple.”

Now, that sounded better.

“That would take time.”

“We have until the end of the year, then two years after that, haven’t we? Except if you’re in a hurry?”

“No, I’m just being curious”, Lucius admitted.

Matthew raised his hands in a dramatic position.

“Merlin! Even Malfoys admit to have flaws! Perhaps muggles are right: miracles _do_ exist!”

Lucius snorted and whacked Matthew on the head. Matthew laughed then dissipated the silence bubble – just in time. Serafino entered the room a moment later, and raised his eyebrows at them.

“Well?”

“We were about to start an Exploding Snap. Wanna play?”

Matthew’s smile looked perfectly sincere. Lucius noted to be more careful. That guy could lie through his teeth – which was lucky given the circumstances.

Serafino joined them, taking Matthews’ cards in the drawer. They got started and, for once, spent some time behaving like the three teenagers they were.

 

***

 

With December ending, the moment Lucius dreaded arrived: the festive season. He had to go back to the Manor for the two whole weeks and knew already they wouldn’t be pleasing. Several _parties_ had been organized by members of their _little group_. Worse, he didn’t forget Serafino told him he’d be marked at the end of the year.

Lucius was surprised to learn Matthew would be staying at Hogwarts. Apparently, his grades weren’t good enough and he had several remedial planned, especially in Transfiguration and Potions.

“ _Transfiguration_? You’re better at it than me!” Lucius exclaimed.

“I’ve been a bit distracted by Sam those last few weeks, with our long separation to come.” Matthew spoke of the two Christmas weeks in true drama queen. “I scribbled a few essays a bit quickly and McGonagall insisted for me having remedial. During the school year it’s impossible, with our club and the Quidditch…”

Lucius finally understood. His friend simply found a way to dodge the incoming marking. He noted to complain about Matthew’s levity during this semester to beef up his pretence. Unfortunately, that ploy meant he’d lack company.

But then, in the situation he’d be, he’d rather not have any witnesses or, at least, none among his friends. Serafino was more than enough.

The 24th of December being a Saturday, the holiday would start on Christmas Eve. He went back home on the 23th, after classes. Most pureblood students did the same, leaving by portkey instead of waiting for the Hogwarts Express. The eve took place within the family but, the day after, they had to go to the Black’s who threw a party at their house, at Lucius distress.

Only the members of the brotherhood were present, which was actually a lot of people. The Blacks, of course, the insufferable Bellatrix included, her sisters and young cousins; Notts, Rosiers – Lucius’ mother’s family – and Parkinsons, Goyles – among them Lawrence and his fiancée, a young girl with an ugly, stupid face – as well as Lestranges and some other pureblood families.

The ballroom was opened for the occasion and elves in clean rags were serving sparkling champagne and small sandwiches decorated with the rarest food. A discreet music brightened up the room which, truly, felt rather serious, despite the laughs and conversations. On one hand, all those people were gauging each other and were trying to improve their social status – and on the other, the Lord was among them, silent and smiling.

Luckily for Lucius’ sake, he concentrated his attention on the adults and, to say the truth, he would have had a hard time not to listen to the Black’s doyen, Irma, who stand on his left. Even though she only got the name through nuptials, she kept a strong hand on the whole family. On the Lord’s right was Abraxas, as always – and he was almost as impressive as Voldemort himself.

Lucius kept a low profile and joined the other teenagers as soon as it was polite to do so. They unfortunately grouped all together, which meant Bellatrix was among them. However, she snubbed most of them, talking only to Rodolphus Lestrange and two or three others, leaving Lucius with the others. Well, at least Andromeda was a good conversationalist.

The surprise came from young Narcissa which, apparently, was even more of a Slytherin than he thought.

“I heard the Briggs received quite a blow last month. Did you hear anything, Malfoy?”

That probably was the first time anyone called him by his surname in such a company. _Malfoy_ was Abraxas, himself being only _the young Lucius_ to the adults – a qualification he detested excessively. Flattered, he made the effort to answer.

“Yes, it seems a still anonymous competitor is engaging a trial of strength with them and he would have won an important market in the course of November. One of their exclusivity agreements felt due – with India, I think – and its renewal would have been made in favour of the competitor.”

“How is it even possible? Today, _Briggs_ means power and fame.”

He stared at the kid. She was looking at him with bright, blue eyes, her eyebrows frowned with concentration.

“Well”, he answered, “I guess it isn’t necessarily the case from an Indian point of view. Moreover, Briggs had put their colonial ties forward in order to get their agreement the first time and, since the situation evolved…”

She nodded, guessing where problem lied. Serafino and Andromeda put an end at their own conversation in order to join them, a bit puzzled.

“Do you have any idea who this new player is?”

“None at all”, Lucius admitted. “Being in Hogwarts, I’m having a hard time being informed about what happens in the rest of the world, as you can imagine. The _Economic Prophet_ is all I have and themselves are not always the best sources.”

They all had to comment on that. Briggs were _fashionables_ , but still last-generation upstarts. For Blacks or Lestranges, their recent fortune didn’t mean anything, especially since they didn’t support the Lord. For some of the adults, that might as well be a capital crime. When Bellatrix started betting with her little sister about the date when Reynold Briggs would be expelled by his competitor, Lucius felt his head ache.

Of course the Lord was impressive and he was going to serve him – he didn’t have any choice in the matter. But to insult the Briggs… He didn’t thought well of Mary but her father, Reynold, was a brilliant man. The empire he was building was impressive and Lucius could only admire him for his pugnacity. When you thought about it, the Malfoys started exactly the same way and their current fortune was only due to the excellent management of the following generations.

“Be patient”, Serafino whispered, amused by his annoyance. “She’ll shut up, eventually.”

Lucius grumbled an answer. His friend only understood one of the many reasons why he felt so exasperated. Maybe he’d get it when marked.

He wondered if his sister was, Serafino not being an only child like most of them. As far as he knew, Bellatrix was the sole marked girl. Was the Lord a bit misogynist or just pragmatic about protecting his servants’ wives?

“Come on”, Serafino continued. “It could be worse.”

“And how, if I may ask?”

“Your father could be angry at you.”

Lucius winced and scanned the room for wood by reflex, following the old tradition to repel bad luck. Serafino refrained laughing.

“I didn’t talk that loud.”

“You never know who can hear you.”

At that very moment, the Lord and Abraxas started heading toward them. The two boys exchanged a glance, half-worried half-amused, then tensed when the men stopped right in front of them.

“Lucius”, Voldemort smiled.

Bellatrix and the other bowed, forcing Lucius to mimic them reticently.

“My Lord.”

“I hope we’ll have the occasion to discuss again, like this summer. We’ll probably see each other in Malfoy Manor.”

Abraxas nodded. Lucius bowed again. That seemed to satisfy Voldemort who turned toward Serafino. The boy was looking at him with shining eyes.

“My dear Serafino. Would you please follow me? We have to talk.”

The boy had to swallow twice before managing to push a “yes” out of his tensed throat. The Lord took him along, followed by Abraxas. However, Lucius saw his father back in the crowd only a few minutes later. The two others stayed absents much longer.

In a corner of the room, Annalisa Anghelis stood next to her father Samael. She looked as dark as he was satisfied.

Serafino came back only two hours later, when the big clock’s hands almost pointed to midnight. At the first glance, Lucius understood what happened: his friend’s cheeks were pink and his eyes glowing. His shirt was buttoned and smoothed but the collar was still a bit askew and a new crease had appeared on his robe.

Serafino snorted on his shocked look.

“Don’t tell me you already forgot how it is?”

Lucius remembered. The sensation which invaded him with the Lord’s magic had been exhilarating – but still! Never would he have… The Lord was at least forty when Serafino and he were fifteen! His stomach clenched. He brought his own thought to halt before being sick.

Fortunately, everybody’s attention was converging to Cygnus Black, who was starting a little speech. Voldemort stand at his left, as spotless as ever – or, more accurately, Cygnus was at Voldemort’s right. Abraxas, at their left, wore an especially cold expression, showing a deep displeasure. Did he share Lucius’ opinion on the Lord’s behaviour?

Thereof took over when Cygnus finished his speech. His voice echoed in the whole room without him raising it.

“My dear friends, I’m happy to see you all reunited on this evening. Together, you represent the finest of today’s witchcraft, by your line as well as your magical power. Thank you for being there, for being brave enough to claim who you are.”

Silence fell on the room. Lucius diverted his attention from the Lord to scan the other’s faces – who was listening with glee, who remained silent by fear of being noted? No way to know. Even the previously dark Annalisa Anghelis wore a perfectly blank face, her ginger hair glowing around her pale skin.

“The youngest here, your children, who are also dear to my heart… are as brilliants as could be expected. I’m sure they’ll be even more than we hoped for!”

To Lucius’ shock, Bellatrix blushed. The others hesitated between looking down with embarrassment and straightening proudly. Sirius Black, Bellatrix’s young cousin, was struttinglike a peacock.

“During the holidays”, the Lord continued, “I’m sure we’ll have the occasion to assemble again, this time at my expense.” He smiled at their surprise. “I have the pleasure to invite you for New Year’s Eve. More information and the precise address will follow by owl.”

Everybody started commenting and some applause was even heard here and there, as if the Lord just made some special announcement.

“ _A_ _d dicendum veniebat magis audacter quam parate_ ”, (1) Lucius grumbled.

Narcissa casted him a surprised glance. Damn, did she understand? He kept a blank face, pretending not to notice. By luck, she remained silent. At least she wasn’t Bellatrix – _she_ would have skinned him alive in front of the whole crowd.

He was still surprised the girl actually got what he said; even in the old families, everybody didn’t know Latin, and the quote wasn’t _that_ famous. Perhaps it was just chance, then.

The speech continued some more, the Lord making an ode to Magic and to pure families, and also to what he called the Old Magic. Lucius wondered what he would think about Kamaria Jones’ classes. She wasn’t that radical in her ideas but she privileged a purer form of Magic than the one, restrictive, imposed by the Ministry. Her class about Magical Awakening had fascinated Lucius, even if it was more theoretical than practical – who could, today, pretend to have reached his magical core, in order to manipulate his whole magic?

Well, maybe the Lord, Lucius thought, remembering one more time his marking ceremony. Perhaps he’d dared to ask him, someday.

 

***

 

A letter was waiting for him when he got back at the Manor. Too tired, he went to bed without reading it. In the end, two more days passed before finally he found it again. To his surprise, it was from Matthew. What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait for him to go back to Hogwarts?

Annoyed by his own laziness which delayed his reading, he opened it.

“ _Dear Lucius,_

 _I took the liberty of resuming our little research during my (scarce) free time. That was totally easy since I’m spending my whole days closed in the library, as I should – you cannot imagine the homework I get. McGonagal’s was especially vicious, but I_ will _extort an O from the old owl._

_I also wanted you to know we still have a lot of work to do in order to reach our objective. I didn’t find any trace of our dear friend where we were looking, even by broadening my criteria. I’m afraid we’ll have to find another way – for example looking what is missing instead of what is there to be found._

_I must admit my impatience will kill me as surely as the curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back. And wasn’t it_ vital _for you to get the news?_

_Also, I miss all of you very much, being the only one of our year wearing my robes on the benches while you’re having a great time. I hope you’ll tell me everything when you’re back!_

_Is Serafino happy with his Christmas presents?_

_Yours,_

_Matthew.”_

Lucius frowned. He would have like a better result. Moreover, Matthew took a risk by sending him such a letter. Well, perhaps he was being a bit paranoid; and paranoia might be more noticeable than Matthew’s casual words.

Alright. If he got his friend’s meaning well, Matthew was essentially perfecting his alibi for the holidays and made the most of the opportunity by telling him he didn’t find anything about the Lord in Hogwarts’ albums. Now, that was surprising… But what did he mean by “ _looking what is missing instead of what is there to be found_ ”? That could mean anything!

Then, of course, Matthew asked about Serafino. Either he escaped the Mark himself only thank to his noticeable absence during the holidays, or they had talked about the marking. In both cases, he was worried, but Lucius couldn’t tell anything reassuring – and nothing following at least a bit the minimal decency one should respect in a letter.

He didn’t see Serafino since the day he was marked. The Lord, however present at the Manor, didn’t really talk about his other servants when he was with Lucius – which happened quite rarely despite of his promise. He tended more to stay with Abraxas, at Lucius’ mother chagrin. She looked paler and paler every day.

The boy sighed and took his quill. He could still send an owl back.

“ _Matthew,_

_You moron. You know very well your own idiocy is the sole reason why you had to stay at Hogwarts in such an important period and you cannot imagine what you’re missing. Well, Black’s gatherings remain boring as even, however interesting the guests – but then, Bellatrix is present._

_Serafino is doing well from what I heard. I’ll see him on the 31th. My parents and I_ _had_ _conveniently planned nothing for the occasion – I’m afraid some others had to cancel their own parties in order to go to this one. I don’t know anything about the evening’s program; I’ll tell you more when I’m back._

_Don’t die of boredom in the meantime. Your dear beloved would be able to make us pay._

_Venomously,_

_Lucius”_

More or less satisfied with his answer, even if it wasn’t as subtle as Matthew’s letter, he sealed it and called an elf to send it. It didn’t contain anything secret; his father, if he happened to read it, would probably believe Matthew felt truly sorry for not being present and hoped to hear all the details soon.

But then. Where Nimue did Voldemort come from?

 

 

(1) Cic. Brut. 241: he came to court with more audacity than preparation


	9. Chapter 9

The night was as dark as he could have hoped. Heavy clouds had appeared in the morning and kept thickening throughout the day. They didn’t let any light through, not the Moon’s nor the stars’.

Lucius was holding his breath behind his mask. The house they targeted barely stood out against the dark woods. It was located in a remote area of the city, probably because their wizard owners didn’t want to be noticed. A high hedge surrounded the garden, isolating it even more. That made their mission all the easiest: no one would be able to see anything before the end, when they’d cast the grinning Mark above the house.

Lucius’ nose itched but, despite a growing need, he didn’t remove his mask to scratch it. This wasn’t even his tenth attack but he was already used to the workflow.

He teamed with his father, Cygnus Black and Nott. Even though the latter was a complete moron, he was also a very good fighter, and his lack of intelligence was compensated by Cygnus’ strategic mind – though himself needed help in battle. Only Abraxas kept a perfect balance between his nerves, his mind and his impeccably aimed spells.

Luckily, Lucius never had been on the same mission than Bellatrix. He guessed they formed specific teams, each member compensating the others’ flaws. He himself was certainly considered too young to be trusted; hence the presence of the Lord’s right-hand man – his father.

This thought made Lucius rage. He was as capable as any other! Moreover, if the Lord considered fifteen to be too young to fight, he might just have wait before marking him. That would also grant them enough time to be sure of their allegiance and hence avoid future traitors.

He stopped his thought right there and turned his attention back on the house. Better not even _think_ about treachery.

Abaxas ordered them silently to move forward. It was around 3am – midnight, time of the murder, would have been way too early: too many people would have been awake. At this darkest hour, the house lamps were off, and so where the neighbors’.

They slipped into the garden, indiscernible figures in the shadows. Their robes were made of a strange fabric which didn’t reflect light and, anyway, there wasn’t any. Even their skull-white masks were invisible.

They headed noiselessly to a French window. Cygnus opened it with a silent spell. Nott entered first then waved at them: the path was clear. Abraxas crossed the window – and froze. He half-turned, ready to whisper… Lucius never knew what: the room lighted up with reds and yellows, spells casted from everywhere. For a second, he didn’t know how to react – then Cygnus pushed him back.

“ _Run!_ ” Cygnus ordered, his voice distorted by his mask.

Lucius took two steps back before pulling himself together and sticking against the wall. That put him out of reach while allowing him to cast protecting spell on the others. In the garden, he would have been in the open…

Staying was still a bad idea: in a few moments, the outside filled with Aurors who took him as their target.

Oh Nimue… Nauseated, he casted a few defensive spells – just a few seconds – then his shoulder exploded in pain. He fall on one knee; two binding spells flew over his head. Merlin, he was going to die, those were _Aurors_ for Merlin’s sake!

He pushed on one foot to roll over, more spells hitting the ground where he’d been. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other managed to get out. Someone – Cygnus? – transformed the window into bricks and a green flash was sent towards the Aurors who dispersed. Strange lights started dancing – fire?

Lucius struggled back on his feet and ran with the others, casting what curse he could. Butterflies were flying in his stomach and, behind his mask, his eyes watered. For the first time, he casted _Avada Kedavras_ , knowing his curse wouldn’t kill anyone even if he hit his targets: he didn’t manage to put any real need to kill in it. However, the green light reassured him and made his enemies run, which was more than enough.

He heard Nott scream. Someone grabbed his shoulder, pulling a scream out of him as well, and dragged him on the street – oh, yes, the Aurors must have put a security perimeter in place, they couldn’t Apparate. Lucius hadn’t even thought about it, too busy fearing for his life. When he finally felt the familiar sensation of the portkey which pulled him from the stomach, he clung to the person who was still holding his shoulder painfully, and closed his eyes.

They collapsed together in the Manor’s Hall. After a few seconds, someone touched Lucius’ arm and he half-opened his eyes. His father had removed his mask and was looking at him, seeming almost worried.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll survive”, he winced.

Cygnus was getting up a few steps away. He was livid.

“Where’s Nott?”

“He Apparated on his own. Go back home, they might turn up.”

The man nodded and headed for the living room where the closest fireplace was. Abraxas helped Lucius back on his feet, keeping clear from his wounded shoulder.

“Remove your robes and go to your room. Be sure your wound is hidden.”

Lucius stopped himself from falling by catching hold on the wall and did as ordered. He didn’t have the strength to protest and it was the best thing to do anyway. He gave his mask to an elf which made it disappear and casted a dozen spells to empty his wand from the _Avadas_ which otherwise might have been spotted. His father helped him to the stairs and entrusted him to some other elf who escorted him to his rooms.

He changed into his nightdress. His shoulder hurt badly. The elf managed to stop the bleeding but that wouldn’t hold against a detailed search. On the other hand, there were very few chances for the Aurors to effectively come to the Manor and, if they did, for them to wake him up.

Besides, why would they come? His father and he had been masked and their family was a respected one. Who could know they’d been there?

The answer crossed his mind while he tried to sleep, and came down to one name: Seth Prewett.

 

***

 

Lucius fought back a sigh while Dr James Silver manipulated his shoulder carefully, checking if the balm he had given him was effective. The doctor had been in charge of his family since Lucius’ childhood and had then been freshly out of his apprenticeship to St-Mungo. Since, his temples had gone grey and he had let a becoming beard grow on his cheeks, making his face somewhat slender.

“You seem to do well. You’ll be healed for this evening.”

“Thank you, doctor”, Lucius answered, hesitating between joy and fear about the Lord’s party. “Should I put some balm back on it when I come back?”

The doctor nodded, putting his implements away.

“Tomorrow as well. Call me if you still feel pain on Monday. There shouldn’t be any infection but you can never be too careful.”

Lucius agreed and put his robes back. He had to change before departing; he smelt of sage and, even if it wasn’t a bad smell, he’d rather avoid any remarks.

Dr Silver left him alone. The boy showered and changed into more dignified robes. They were going to the Lord’s party, yes, but it also was New Year’s Eve and most Old Families would be there. He had to prove worthy of the Malfoy’s name.

He hoped he’d manage to pull up a nice face. He didn’t manage to sleep before late, first because of the adrenaline – the fear – still running through his veins, then because of shouts coming from the ground floor. Seth Prewett was quite fearless and had demanded a search of the Manor, which of course Abraxas denied. The scandal had been brought to the Ministry’s highest authorities and been put to an end only when the Ministry of Magic himself ordered Prewett to back off, because of insufficient proof. The Head Auror had to apologize for the inconvenience.

Lucius had only heard this piecemeal but understood enough to know that Seth Prewett would be rap over the knuckles – but also that he wouldn’t give up. The animosity between Abraxas and him started years ago and Lucius himself didn’t know why; but Prewett seemed to _know_ where their allegiances were.

The boy shuddered. He remembered too well the noise of the curses brushing against him, hitting the ground all around him. Until then, never his life had truly been at stake. Oh, of course, there always was a risk to see their targets react and hit one of them, but they weren’t trained and, as attackers, they always took care to be more numerous than the defenders. But Aurors…

He finished to dress up and took a nervous breath. The Lord was probably furious for they didn’t reach their objective. They couldn’t afford any _faux-pas_ tonight – despite Bellatrix taunts he could totally expect. Damn this bloody nuisance!

He met his father in the hall. Surprisingly, he had been waiting alone.

“Your mother doesn’t feel well”, he announced. “She’ll stay here.”

“Won’t this cause us trouble?”

Abraxas cast him an icy look which Lucius faced unblinkingly. After thirty seconds, Abraxas straightened.

“We’ll manage”, he said.

Lucius nodded and grabbed the portkey which took them to the Black’s country house, graciously lent to the Lord for the occasion. Those who hoped to learn something about their master had been very disappointed.

Things had been made big, the decoration as well as the music or the dishes, but what struck Lucius when he entered the ballroom was the electric atmosphere. He held his breath for a second, staring wide-eyed, before understanding: it was the Lord magic, unfolded around them. Apprehension was replaced by pure admiration. Even after getting his Mark, never Lucius would have thought him capable of such wonders. The room was gigantic!

Voldemort himself was amiably talking with Cygnus Black and Samael Anghelis. He didn’t even cast them a glance when they entered – Lucius saw his father flinch at this obvious dismissal. He didn’t wait for his authorization to slip toward the other teenagers, carefully avoiding Bellatrix to head instead for her younger sister, Narcissa, who was standing right next to Serafino.

“Good evening”, he greeted, forcing a smile on his face.

“Ah, here you are!” Serafino exclaimed. “You were almost late.”

“We’ve had some problem this night, which cost us some time this morning.”

Serafino raised one eyebrow. Lucius sighed; he wished he could duck the issue but couldn’t imagine how. Luckily, Narcissa Black spared him the shame to tell everything himself:

“I heard about it, my father was in a state… You have been visited by Aurors, haven’t you? They didn’t have the nerve to come over _our_ house.”

“Well, probably Prewett preferred harassing my father instead of yours”, Lucius admitted.

She snubbed her nose, which scratched her proper young girl behaviour.

“That Prewett… He should be waiting for a misfortune, someday.”

“I’m sure he knows and took all needed precautions in consequences. After all, they’re all three Aurors at home.”

The Prewett twins didn’t found themselves wives nor moved out of their parents’ home, which was source of half the mockeries tarnishing their images within Slytherin.

“Soon four”, young Rastaban Lestranges intervened. “Adrian Prewett will finish Hogwarts this year, right?”

“Indeed.”

Lucius remembered the strange red-haired with whom he exchanged a few words at the library. Would he too embrace the familial business? Somehow, it sounded like a waste. On the other hand, he was still a _Prewett_ ; what else could be expected?

“Did you escape unharmed?”

“Of course”, Lucius snorted. “I hope you don’t image we left any proof around? But we’ll have to be more careful in the future. Until now, Prewett’s suspicions never drove him to visit us without a warrant.”

Why this one time, though? What changed? Did he recognize Abraxas? They didn’t know each other that well, despite their mutual animosity… did they?

Lucius casted an eye over the crowd to search for his father and naturally stopped on the Lord, still conversing with Samael Anghelis. To his great surprise, Abraxas wasn’t with them, and Voldemort was busy smiling sensually to Bellatrix.

To _Bellatrix_ , he repeated wordlessly to himself, baffled. How could he be interested in a girl so obviously obtuse? She didn’t have looks for her part!

Narcissa made a face.

“Merlin, it’s disgusting. Abraxas was so much more discreet!”

All thoughts about Aurors deserted Lucius’ mind. Nimue! The brat was _right_.

Abraxas was standing next to one of the room’s exit, a glass in his hand, talking darkly with Goyle _père_ and Rosier, his brother-in-law – excluded from the closest Lord’s influence sphere. He seemed perfectly studied but was blatantly _not looking_ toward Bellatrix.

Until now, he had been the one standing at Voldemort’s right.

Voldemort had whispered to _his_ ear.

Voldemort had stayed in _their house_ for the night, to _talk about potions_.

The flash of truth enlightened little more than a previously existing idea. How could he be so blind? Abraxas wasn’t just the Lord’s henchman but his _partner_. And, apparently, he was paying their mistake of the day before quite a lot. He didn’t fall from grace in their circle’s hierarchy – Lucius didn’t doubt for a second important missions would still be entrusted to him – but in his _lover’s bed_.

Nimue, this thought was sickening. Lucius tried with great difficulty _not to_ imagine the couple embracing and started instead a disjoined conversation with Serafino.

They were interrupted by an even greater distraction and, even though he’d never thought it possible, even more horrible. Nott entered the room, late, dragging a girl by her hair. She was fighting as hard as she could – that is, not a lot: a vicious curse made her slip each time she tried to lean on the ground. Following them was a flying young man, tied and raging against his gag.

The Lord raised one delicate eyebrow and waited silently an explanation. His servant bowed without hesitation, grinning.

“I hope you like my gift, master. I crossed the path of those two curious muggles on my way here and I thought they might… liven up your evening.”

Lucius paled despite himself. _Muggles?_ Nott could only think at one kind of entertainment which would be made at their expense. Not to mention the fact that they’d never come through alive.

All waited for the Lord’s verdict. His magic was still pulsing across the room. Bellatrix put boldly her hand on his elbow, a predatory smile on her lips.

“Oh please, my lord, allow me to have fun with them!”

Voldemort let out a laugh and, with a nod, incited her to make the spectacle begin.

She casted _Crucio_ without delay. The girl screamed, looking even worse than the previous curse casted by Nott wasn’t removed. She writhed with pain on the ground, twisting absurdly, in an almost funny way. Some people laughed, Serafino included, to Lucius’ shock. Yes, muggles weren’t worth a _sickle_ , but to attack them… It was like torturing a puppy. It wasn’t worthy of wizards!

He met his father’s gaze. Abraxas was directly in front of him, on the other side of the circle they formed around the two unfortunate muggles. Lucius composed himself a blank expression straight away, looking bored more than horrified. He could let himself be sick later; now, he had to endure.

Rodolphus casted a curse of his own and the boy’s arms and legs started being quartered while being restrained by the cords. He howled his pain and his terror despite the gag, which was taken away from him to the spectators’ delight. Lucius looked at the spectacle long enough not having to bear remarks about his hypothetical weakness afterwards then looked around for someone feigning to appreciate the view. Impossible to differentiate them than the others, though.

At his side, Serafino was applauding enthusiastically and casted a few spells himself. Narcissa, on the other hand, was snubbing her nose as if she was smelling an especially disgusting stench. After all, no one would expect a thirteen-years-old girl to like such loud yells, coming from muggles or dogs alike.

Lucius only hesitated for a second before leaning toward her.

“If you don’t feel well, I’d be glad to accompany you outside, long enough for them to grow tired.”

Narcissa almost protested before getting he wanted to leave himself. She nodded and took the arm he gave her, paling so much he might have taught she was really feeling sick. He nodded at Cygnus who cast him a relieved glance, then left the room as quickly as he could. Behind them, Bellatrix’s voice was already suggesting:

“Next time, we should have cages!”

 

***

 

The second week of Christmas holidays was quieter than the first. Malfoys stayed at home, regally ignoring the regular patrols of Aurors in front of the Manor and they total lack of subtlety. By Friday, the Lord’s coolness toward Abraxas had melted a bit – even if Voldemort decided to stay at the Black’s on Sunday, with Bellatrix.

Lucius’ fear toward Aurors transformed into determination not to get caught and he redoubled his efforts during his solitary trainings. He looked forward to the DADA society’s sessions. He needed them only too much and, for the first time, he was even considering abandoning Quidditch to devote more time to the society.

However, in the middle of the school year, it would have looked too suspicious. Seth Prewett probably didn’t think he took part to the attacks – otherwise he would have insisted to see him on that night. Lucius didn’t want to attract his attention.

His only true worry now was about his mother. Clotildis Rosier never had a good health, slim and slender as she was, but those last few months her natural pallor had became livid and dark rings appeared under her eyes. Lucius couldn’t help but to wonder if that had something to do with his father’s affair with the Lord. But then, he suspected it started well before that.

Those thought lead him to the two men’s first meeting. Did they know each other for long? Where could they have crossed each other’s path? Abraxas probably knew the true name of his… friend – but Lucius wouldn’t dare to ask.

Instead, he approached Matthew as soon as he got back on Saturday the 7th.

“You talked about looking for what was missing, explain yourself.”

“Hello to you too, Lucius, I had a great time as well and if the old owl doesn’t give me an O, she’s even more ill faith than we thought.”

Lucius rolled his eyes.

“Spare me those banalities. Or else, you should have refrained from sending me this sibylline letter.”

Matthew opened his mouth to answer but, if what he was going to say was supposedly fun, Lucius’ daggers look made him change his mind.

“Very well. I was suggesting we should investigate about those who don’t appear on any picture. I even made a list, although limited to Slytherins having left Hogwarts between 1935 and 1950. I don’t think I take risks by restrict it so. Am I forgiven?”

Lucius found himself blinking. Of course! Matthew was right. Someone changing name like the Lord would have done his best not to be recognizable and would have taken care of personally making the proof disappear during some trip at Hogwarts!

Did his father call him _Voldemort_ or _Lord_ in private? The thought made Lucius turn green. So. Clearing his head.

“That’s a very good idea, Matthew, thank you. We just have to go back to the library in order to look into the _Who’s who_.”

“Do we _have_ to go now?” The boy sighed at Lucius’ frown. “Very well. But no more than an hour!”

The library was packed full, lots of students having procrastinated until last minute the writing of one or the other essay. They found themselves playing the investigators – at least, Lucius did. Matthew seemed above all busy staring at his book’s pages with a bloomy face. At least, they looked like they were working like all the others.

However, when Clint asked them to join their table, Lucius almost stopped Matthew from accepting. That fat guy disgusted him too much, despite his undeniable talent at potions… Then, he realised they’d have a big table for themselves when all the others were already taken.

He accepted then, not without a sigh, and was about to go back to his research when he noticed the seventh year’s book was about accounting. He raised his eyebrows and was grateful at Matthew for expressing his curiosity aloud:

“Well? That had certainly nothing to do with a class!”

Clint smiled amiably, his cheeks seeming even chubbier.

“I intend to become self-employed next year. I don’t have like you some familial affair to take over.”

Yes, and about that, what _did_ Clint’s parents _do_? Lucius took several minutes to remember his family name, Zabini – even professors called him Clint. That didn’t help.

“Potions, then?” Matthew guessed.

Clint smiled modestly, as if he had to apologise for his exceptional abilities in that field. There was but one of his calibre by generation.

“Do you have advices to give, Walters?”

The question didn’t sound sarcastic, which Lucius approved. After all, Matthew had been helping his father with his company since childhood. He distractedly listened to them talking business while consulting his books.

They’d never manage to investigate in so many people. Apparently, the Lord wasn’t the only one to take away his pictures from Hogwarts, even though Lucius couldn’t figure why people did that. A joke made to a former enemy? The need to hide a teenage obesity, spots? They had seventeen names on their list, too many for Lucius to go at each address to check its veracity. Also, he didn’t manage to reduce it, even a little. Maybe he would have to play spies, after all…

“I guess we should take only pureblood into account…” he grumbled, closing the book he was reading.

He met Clint’s surprised glance and only then realised he’d spoke aloud. He carefully kept a blank face and piled up all the volumes he had taken from the shelves.

“Allow me to leave you at your exciting discussion.”

Matthew seemed too absorbed in the conversation to care, fortunately. After all, Lucius was the one having dragged the other along to the library – and he was leaving. Not that Matthew made a lot of research. He had no right to complain.

He ruminated on his thoughts on his way to the dorms. He was about to flop on his bed when he heard a strange noise coming from the bathroom.

Surprised and curious, he headed there to take a look. He froze at the door. Serafino was on his knees before the toilet bowl and, even though he was giving him his back, Lucius could guess his shoulders’ shakes were caused by sobs.

Oh. An attack caused six deaths in a mixed-blood family the day before. Apparently, Serafino spilled his first blood. Somehow, seeing him so shocked reassured Lucius, after the pleasure he saw the boy taking in torturing people. Unless he too had been playing an act? Lucius doubted it.

Whatever, in the end. He considered to intervene, to talk to him, then thought about what would have been his own reaction if one of his classmates dared to.

With a sigh, he closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Classes resumed and, with them, homework and training – within the DADA society and Quidditch both. Lucius was more than happy to be above average. Rate intensified with the beginning of the new period and everyone felt more and more the incoming OWLs’ pressure.

His schedule being completed by his numerous prefect’s duties and his regular visits to the Manor, he barely noticed January ending and didn’t have time to worry about anything. At least he didn’t have any hitches with the Aurors since the last time’s disaster. The Lord, on the other hand, was investigating within his own to find who had sold the date and hour of the attack, a point about which Lucius hadn’t thought.

Not being considered as a suspect himself, he didn’t really care. The others only saw him as his father’s son and that alright as long as it prevented the attention from focusing on him. Oh, Voldemort was still spending an afternoon in his company from time to time but Lucius started to understand how the man worked. He gave as much distracted attention as he could to each of his followers, giving a very precise amount of his presence to those he wanted to keep faithful. Lucius preferred not to care and just enjoyed the lessons given by such a master in magic.

Unfortunately, the activities of their little _group_ also kept increasing. After the few missions following Hogsmeade attack which, in the end, weren’t sensational at all, their master seemed determined to strike another symbolic blow. Lucius wasn’t informed about the name of their future target yet but already knew the date: Sunday the 26 th of February, the day after the Slytherin/Ravenclaw Quidditch.

One might as well say Lucius wasn’t delighted at all. Quidditch came now late in his concerns, yes, but his competitive spirit still pushed him to want victory and, to obtain the Cup, this match would be decisive. If they won, their match against Hufflepuff would merely be a formality – which suited him, since it would probably take place in May, right before the beginning of the exams. He wasn’t going to be in the mood.

His perfect’s patrols were less regular that he’d like, especially since the seventh years were also busy with their studies. The sixths, however willing – at least, as willing as Slytherin might be – weren’t enough to compensate their negligence. To say the truth, Lucius was mostly cross with himself for not helping Samantha, whose schedule was less busy.

When she asked him to replace her for a patrol – probably so she could fool around with Matthew – Lucius accepted without hesitation.

He regretted it two hours later, when he had to cast a warming spell on his robes to stop shuddering. Dungeons weren’t exactly known for being the most insulated part of the castle and between the drafts and the humidity creeping into the corridors during winter, it was easy to catch a cold. Yet, it wouldn’t suit a Malfoy to have smoking ears.

“Are you volunteering, Malfoy?”

Lucius shivered; he didn’t hear anyone approaching. He greeted amiably the strange Kamaria Jones. What the hell did she want from him, always poking at him like that?

“Hello, professor. As a prefect, I’m afraid I can’t take into consideration only those duties which suite me, can I?”

“Most certainly, but young men don’t all think that way”, she pointed out with a dark smile.

He shrugged.

“That’s generally the case for those chosen to be prefect.”

She nodded, accepting his point.

“And yet some professors don’t demonstrate such maturity.”

Lucius frowned. Who was she talking about? Most Hogwarts’ teachers were totally proper, except of course Fletcher the muggle-lovers, with his little fancy. Was it possible she meant him?

“I don’t see your point, Madam”, he answered in carefully blank tone.

“Don’t make yourself blinder than you are, Mr Malfoy. You’re far from an imbecile. Someone with such brilliants grades and coming from a family as prestigious as yours…”

What did she want? To secure herself a place in one of his father’s company after the DADA malediction fell? If that was the case, she went to the wrong place. Lucius didn’t have any influence over his father whatsoever – and didn’t intend to help her anyway, however interesting were her classes. She was way too weird.

“And then again”, she continued, “some classes have no purpose left when other should be added to the degree course. Do you follow Latin lessons by correspondence, like many of your classmates?”

“Of course.”

“I thought so. And I’m not talking about Great Arts themselves, of course… Grindelwald is still too close in time for Great Britain to open its mind back to it. I’m surprised Drumstang is independent enough to face the criticisms. To Beauxbatons, even my class isn’t given anymore – but then, French were particularly traumatized by the war.”

Lucius listened politely to her uninteresting speech. He already knew that and wondered where she was getting at.

“Then of course, there’s Muggle Studies. To say that some students from our House are following it!”

“Only for Fletcher’s pretty looks”, he answered without care.

The woman’s stare pierced him at those words. She didn’t point out his breach of language and he tried to look casual.

“Not that he’s worth if, of course. Those girls’ heads are full of thin air. He’s our teacher anyway.”

“Of course”, she answered slowly.

Lucius tried to change topic without being too obvious. Oh, she wanted to please him? Well, let’s test her.

“Then he isn’t really good at this, is he? He seems to know as much about muggles as any first year pureblood. The other day, one told me he told them about fascinating talking pictures instead of telene…”

“Television”, she corrected.

He glanced at her and, this time, she was the one trying not to look away. He pretended not to notice and carried the conversation on until she ended it herself. He continued then his patrol just like that – but he’d forgotten about being tired or cold.

Lucius was puzzled. Why exactly had Kamaria Jones been hired? She was trying to approach Slytherins, yes, and put up her despise for the Ministry… but she knew the muggle world too well to actually stand for purebloods.

 

***

 

The crowd blurred into a mass, encouraging and raging screams both. The world had a supplementary dimension, top and bottom had no importance, they only were directions; the buglars were flying all over the place without touching him. The game lasted the whole eternity and too short minutes – because it was a moment when nothing else mattered but adrenaline, goals and victory.

The wind was blowing hard but Lucius didn’t care. If it had been raining, he wouldn’t feel the water. He had no Talent for Quidditch and knew as much, but he _was_ good enough to twist the others around his little finger. He marked his fifteenth goal, exulting.

Then, suddenly, a whistling ring out and everything stopped. He looked around him, met Matthew’s glance, and both turned to the score board. The crowd screamed with joy or with disgust, depending on their team, and soon they were doing the same – the Snitch had been caught, and he had been caught by Slytherin, which was already leading the game.

Drunk with happiness, Lucius landed with a totally undignified laugh. Matthew and he shook hands, then the boy hugged him bluntly and quickly the whole team joined them, in an improbable mix of arms and legs.

“This year, we’ll get the Cup!” the captain proclaimed, perhaps the most hysteric of them all because despite his parents’ disapproval, everybody knew he wanted to make his career in Quidditch.

The others laughed. Matthew poked Lucius.

“He’s right. We’ll be able to take holidays for the last match!”

Lucius didn’t answer, still smiling. The time refused to resume like he usually did after the matches and he was positively delighted about it.

They showered, still talking and joking, then got out arm in arm. The other Slytherin were waiting for them. The girls were smiling at them seductively – Lucius didn’t resist at the temptation and winked at them. He saw the others do the same.

They were gloriously escorted to the Common room where Slughorn passed by just for a few minutes to congratulate them. He admitted implicitly he wouldn’t be coming back during the evening; the night was theirs! Quickly enough, Butterbeers appeared out of nowhere as well as a few Firewhisky bottles – of great brands only, of course, they could afford them. Several were given to the team by lovely girls or boys, all ready to escort them down in their dorm once drunk.

That was part of the game and Lucius refused to put his feet back on the ground. They won and only that mattered – he didn’t want to think about tomorrow and his deadly mission, nor to the target which was finally revealed earlier in the afternoon – St Mungo. He refused to remember Aurors would intervene very quickly because their headquarters were close to the hospital, to think about risking his life again and not being the only one, about perhaps not surviving and certainly killing, killing, and killing again.

“A glass of something, Lucius?” Elvina purred.

“With pleasure.”

He let her pour him a glass and drank it, smiling at her. His guilt for taking advantage of her because he was bored was forgotten, at this point – he just wanted to stop thinking. Unfortunately, she was way less forward than at the beginning of the year, probably because she’d had what she wanted. Other replaced her, whose Lucius didn’t trust. Not that he trusted her but, at least, he knew her.

He gently pushed back a third year who was trying to sit on the arm of his couch, making Matthew laughed. He glared at him – he wasn’t interested in _kids_!

“Don’t look at me like that, dearie, just make the most of if!”

“I couldn’t tell you as much”, Lucius replied icily.

Sam, who imposed herself on Matthew’s lap as soon as the girls started milling about them, raised her eyebrows.

“He can _try_. I know some interesting curses which, I’m sure, he’s willing to test.”

Matthew grinned and started cuddling her to apologize. Lucius ignored them to look at the most beautiful, pointedly ignoring the few boys who tried their luck while pretending to only poke at the team girls. His glass was full, yet he thought he’d drunk it already… He sipped it – but people continued to fill it.

He was starting to feel a bit out. He was in a warm cocoon, noise was muffled. A sixth year sat on his lap and he didn’t even try to push her away; she started whispering dirty propositions in his ear. He barely noted Matthew and Sam leaving. Some fourth year replaced them on the sofa.

“What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock”, the girl whispered.

What was her name, again? He put his arm around her waist; she giggled. He shouldn’t stay up too late, because tomorrow… but he didn’t want to think about that. He emptied his glass again, warming from the inside thank to the beer – ah, no, whisky. Fortunately, with its quality, he shouldn’t have a headache, or he’d risk a lot… No, he took another sip; do not think about the next day.

He vaguely noted his tie was unknotted. He straightened it without paying attention. The girl was clinging on him but others were protesting, they wanted to be in her place. A shame Dona wasn’t there; he’d snigger with her about such a silly behaviour. At the same time, he didn’t have the right to protest, since he wasn’t showing any resistance… this was quite undignified.

He straightened a bit and the girl almost toppled over.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to…”

He tried to smile, but she was getting up furiously.

“What a boor, Malfoy!”

She was about to start a lyric monologue, probably willing to have him on his knees asking for forgiveness – and, in his state, he might even have agreed. But then, someone pushed her away.

“If you don’t want him…”

Natasha Alinovitch, because it was her, made a cute smile at Lucius, who frowned. Perhaps he should go down alone. Yeah, that sounded like a great idea.

He didn’t listen to her babbling and tried to get up, leaning on the sofa’s arm. The ground, this traitor, was rolling. Natasha laughed and pushed him back with her tiny hand. He tried to protest but she wasn’t listening to him. A voice interrupted them.

“Miss Alinovitch, I’m afraid our dear Lucius would like to slip away. If you’d move over…”

Natasha looked outraged but indeed moved away before the newcomer’s quiet authority. Lucius wanted to thank him but froze gaping when he realized his saviour was the fat Clint. Thereof laughed softly.

“Need a hand to get to bed, Malfoy?” Clint asked, proposing his arm.

Too confused to wonder why he was helping, Lucius took it. With the help of the corpulent boy, he managed to get up and to walk toward the stairs. Natasha was glaring at them furiously and he carefully avoided meeting her eyes.

The stairs were a true challenge. He made it to his landing and Clint helped him to his bed. Matthew’s curtains were closed – Lucius didn’t want to know if he was there with his girlfriend or no, and he was quite certain they’d isolated themselves with a silence bubble if that was the case. The other beds were empty.

He collapsed on his and grumbled when the ceiling rolled. Clint laughed again and sat down on the mattress to free him of his shoes and socks. Lucius mumbled a _thkxs_ he hoped to be intelligible and tried to open the first button of his robes. Nimue, that was impossible, this thing seemed wanting to run away for no reason!

Clint’s hands chased his away and Lucius sighed with relief while his button were undone, allowing him to breathe. The podgy fingers were amazingly skilld and opened his robes quickly, then a few buttons of his shirt. Even if he’d wanted to, Lucius would have been quite unable to move, too deep in his drunken stupor to care.

He was lifted and his robes slid to the ground. His eyes closed. He heard the curtains being closed. Then, a finger brushed his lips and he opened his eyes at Clint who was staring at him, still seated at his side.

Lucius cursed Nimue some more, realizing only then the situation he was in, as drunk as a lord, half naked, in a bed with someone. He tried to sit up but Clint pushed him back on the mattress with a flick. Thank Merlin the fat boy didn’t try to kiss him – Lucius would have shuddered with disgust – but, instead, his hands became caressing while he took off the rest of his clothes.

A faint light illuminated briefly the bed – a silencing spell being casted. Bloody hell, he wasn’t going to remain passive! He wasn’t _gay_! But his head was heavy and he felt dizzy and he didn’t _want_ to get up, just to see Clint go away. Perhaps it would be done quickly… the touch felt good and Clint didn’t undress himself… No, the Slytherin merely eyed him greedily while exposing his skin. Lucius might even be a bit flattered.

“ _Amabo, mea dulcis Ipsithilia, jube ad te meridiatum_ ” (1), he grumbled, a bit aggravated by his own passivity.

Clint laughed, obviously understanding Latin as good as, let’s say, Narcissa Black. His caresses became more precise and, much to Lucius’ annoyance, his body started to _react_. He groaned, shocked, making Clint laugh again.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Lucius was about to say how much he doubted that when Clint leaned on him to take care of his _problem_. But not with his hands. After a few seconds, the boy stopped to look at him.

“Would you prefer me to go away?”

Lucius glared at him.

“At that point, continue!”

Clint did so and Lucius clutched the sheets with another groan, all idea of protest evaporating. His last coherent thought was that even Dona didn’t manage anything that clever with her mouth.

 

***

 

There were days when Lucius hated himself with passion. The muffled noise coming across the heavy curtains of his bed told him the morning was ending. The others were awake and ready to go up to take a late breakfast. After all, it was Sunday.

He opened his eyes and glared at the fabric, waiting for them to go away. Thank Merlin, Clint didn’t stay. He hoped no one got his intentions when he’d escorted him to his bed. Bloody hell. He got hope… He had been acting like an idiot and fell for it hook, line and sinker. He’d been drunk but that wasn’t an excuse; if he didn’t want anyone taking advantage of him, he should have drank less, and the other Slytherin thought exactly like him. No one would pity him.

He thought about the few minutes spent in Clint’s company and blushed. He was _blushing_ , Nimue, like some prudish girl! He rolled on his stomach to sink his face in his pillow, ashamed. The seventh year disgusted him as much as before, for his fat, ugly looks. But he wasn’t going to forget the sensations he created in him. He wouldn’t be able to look at him in the eyes for some time.

At least Clint didn’t take advantage of him. Well. Not entirely. Lucius didn’t stay awake long enough after he… after Clint was done, but he was quite sure the boy would have managed to do anything he wanted if he’d had something in mind. Instead, he simply left.

“I wanna die”, he grumbled.

Hearing his words out loud unfortunately brought him back to more immediate problems. He was expected to the Manor and had to hurry if he didn’t want to be late.

He grabbed his wand from the nightstand – why the hell didn’t he thought about using it last night? – and casted a spell to make his clothes fly to him, so he didn’t have to go around naked. He didn’t want the others to see him, should they come back for some reason.

He showered and dressed quickly then went up to the Common Room. As soon as he entered it, he glimpsed a few smirks – especially Natasha Alinovitch’s and her friends’. He took her from the rear by nodding at her politely. She turned pale with rage and said with her most hilltop voice:

“Like father, like son!”

Her voice echoed in the room and Lucius tensed. His first intention had been to ignore everybody and just go up to the Great Hall to breakfast, but he couldn’t overlook such an insult. Smiling, he headed toward her and was pleased to see her move back. She most certainly understood that she went too far.

“Miss Alinovitch”, he whispered smoothly. “I’m forgetting my manners. I have to present you my sincere apologies for my behaviour of yesterday. I will of course say the same to Hagrid.”

He bowed insincerely before she had the time to add anything else and went out. He had still the time to see the others’ horrified looks and Natasha’s, even more horrified. Of course, everybody suspected he said those words only out of revenge, but there was still a tiny possibility for her to really be involved with the warden’s assistant. He snorted. That’ll teach her to imply that he bitted the pillow.

And he really didn’t want to know if his father did or if it was the Lord. Nimue!

He wasn’t even _gay_ , himself. Of that, he was certain. Clint was simply gifted – which wasn’t enough to compensate his ugliness or he being a _man_. Merlin. And here he’d hoped to think about something else…

He reached the Great Hall and found a free seat between Una and Serafino. The latest looked dark; Lucius supposed he had also been invited home that afternoon. Trying not to think about it, he glared at them all: _Clint_ was a forbidden topic. Despite a few smiles quickly hidden with hot chocolate mugs, they avoided to make any remarks and resumed their conversation.

“Reynold Briggs should be more careful, since the current situation”, Elvina was saying. “To openly declare himself in favour of the survivors when he know his position isn’t stable!”

“Some say he’s the one who asked the Aurors to look after them, because he suspected they’d be attacked”, Sam pointed out. “They applause his common sense and whisper he and his family are probably under protection 24/7.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow when he heard the topic. They might be on Slytherins’ table but still, it was dangerous to talk about such matters in public. Moreover, he didn’t like to remember that failure – but well, if he interrupted, Clint’s name might appear in the conversation.

“If he continues, he’ll have troubles”, Elvina repeated.

“And of course, you’ve so much information on the matter”, Matthew mocked.

She pouted.

“More than you for sure, Walters. I’m not a Malfoy but I still attend high society more often than you!”

Her tone didn’t leave any doubts on which frequentations she referred. Lucius was surprised: he didn’t saw her at any meeting he attended, even New year’s Eve. Maybe she only _met_ the Lord at the end of Christmas leave? That would explain her renewed arrogance, which was almost matching Bellatrix’s.

Matthew shrugged.

“I would gladly have done anything _else_ during my holiday than working for McGonagall. I assure you I’ll catch up during summer.”

Elvina opened her mouth to retort, then changed her mind and just smiled at him coldly. She let the topic change, pretending to be busy eating.

Lucius, which was seated almost in front of her, wondered what she was doing. Then, he noted Professor Fletcher passing by the table. He had just enough time to see a white piece of parchment before it disappeared in her sleeve as if nothing had happened. Una, at his right, didn’t seem to notice, busy with her conversation with Sam about a potion she bought at Clint – why him? – but he didn’t doubt Elvina would give her the letter at first occasion.

“It’s perfect, I don’t have any problem on this matter anymore!”

“I note your recommendation in case I receive my own owl. My parents prefer to have the possibility to keep an eye on my correspondence – even if, technically, we can use Hogwarts’. It’s not the same.”

Una nodded; Lucius winced. Clint, again. This guy was disgusting with his fat and his permanent alcoholic smell – he’d forget about it the previous day only because he was smelling so himself. However… he was brilliant in some fields. Lucius would rather not think about it too much about those implying the use of his hands; but Clint certainly was a genius in potions.

He remembered Clint talked about starting his own business in that field. Perhaps he should propose to invest in him, to help him start? The seventh year didn’t have the same funds than a Malfoy, that was for sure. It was how his family became so powerful: they were good at seeing gifts in the others and to hire them – or at least make them make money for them. Lucius wouldn’t let the opportunity pass. Moreover, he wanted to prove his father that he was able to have his own business.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t offer anything to Clint as long as he wasn’t able to look at him in the eyes. He snorted softly and wiped his lips. That would be his punishment for having dared to take advantage of a Malfoy.

 

 

 

(1) Please, my dear Ipsithilia, invite me to rest at your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be there next week so there won't be any new chapter. But I'll come back the week after! And, of course, if you like the story, please let me know :)


	11. Chapter 11

After breakfast, Lucius and Serafino both left on their own to _go back to their families_ , but they arrived at the same place: a small house in the countryside which Lucius recognize as a Malfoy property. Not that he ever went there before – he was far from having visited all their houses.

Abraxas and Samael Anghelis joined the other adults, along with Serafino’s sister. The Lord would arrive later, right before the attack. In the meantime, they had little to do. Serafino raised his eyebrows at him.

“Let’s go upstairs?”

Lucius nodded and followed him. Unfortunately, the other teenagers preceded them and were already occupying the second floor room, playing cards. As such, it wasn’t a problem, even though he’d like some solitude – but the group was formed by Bellatrix, Rodolphus and, startlingly, Elvina. The latest smiled at them.

“Didn’t I tell you I have interesting friends?”

Lucius stopped gaping before Bellatrix had the time to mock him.

“What are you doing here? I mean, even if you got the Mark, I’d rather expect you to be part of less important missions first.”

She sighed like a true actress and took a card from the pack before her.

“I’m afraid you’re not the only one thinking so. I’m only here for moral support. I’ll leave at the same time than you – but to go home with my mother. The coward let my father go to battle alone.”

Her epic sentence made the oldest laugh. Rodolphus waved at two empty chairs.

“Would you join us for the game? We have a few hours to kill.”

Bellatrix sneered but, considering the boy’s annoyed expression, the pun hadn’t been intended. Serafino seated promptly, leaving Lucius the unfortunate choice to sit right next to Black. Lucius repressed a sigh and settled, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Let’s call a truce?”

She snorted, replacing a long strand of brown hair behind her ear.

“In game, there are no friends.”

“In Slytherin, there are no friends”, Rodolphus corrected, shuffling the cards.

Lucius almost smiled; Bellatrix shrugged.

“Let’s play then, and let’s fight. Shouldn’t we bet in order to spice the game?”

Elvina rolled her eyes.

“It’s not fun. We all have money! What if we proposed dares?”

“I don’t intend to lower myself to do that, thank you very much”, Lucius refused right away.

Bellatrix sneered once more.

“You’d rather compromise yourself with Clint. What a lack of taste! I would have thought _that_ to be a good dare.”

To his chagrin, Lucius felt his cheek burn. He could hardly retort that Clint had clever hands! And, anyway, she was perfectly right; as pleasant as their interlude had been, he didn’t intent to reiterate.

“Nothing happened. I wouldn’t have allowed it, even drunk!” he declared coldly, hoping his blush would be taken as rage.

It seemed to work since she winced and took her cards to look at them. Lucius did the same, keeping a blank face. He maintained this mood during the whole afternoon. Rodolphus and Elvina were jesting but, in front of him, Serafino was white as a corpse. He hoped his friends would manage during the actual fight. Lucius would be too busy saving his own life to take care of Serafino’s.

The sky darkened early, so close to the winter’s solstice. They changed clothes to dress with the uniform used during the attacks. Then, after their fourth game, Serafino put his cards down.

“Sorry, but I’ve had enough. I’m going downstairs; we’ll see each other later.”

He got up and headed for the doors while the others greeted him. Lucius frowned. He knew his roommate well enough to be fooled by his blank expression and his measured voice. Serafino was never as impassive as when he had something to hide.

The game resumed without him but Lucius was distracted and it was soon obvious he was going to lose. He pretended to be a poor loser – which wasn’t far from the truth – and abandoned the game as well, to Bellatrix’s delight.

“You finally show your true self, coward!”

“We’ll see that after the fight”, he retorted icily.

He exited the room and climbed the stairs to third flood. The house wasn’t very spacious; each floor had only one big room.

Lucius doubted his friend went down, which was why he tried to go up. Ignoring what Serafino was doing, he hesitated before the closed door. After a while, instead of opening it, he tapped it with his wand to make it translucent – but only from his side. Anyone being in the room wouldn’t see him when he could see everything.

The effort was a waste of time: the room was empty, only filled with old furniture covered with white sheets.

Still worried for no reason, he climbed the few steps leading to the attic. They were in spiral and covered with dust, but he noted footsteps: Serafino was there. Lucius whispered his spell once again – and froze.

Serafino was indeed in the attic but he wasn’t alone and, above all, his activities were far from innocent. Lying on a couch, he was panting in the Lord’s arms. Lucius recoiled, horrified. He suspected they’d fucked when Serafino had been marked, but he didn’t imagine his master would continue afterwards. The teenager was clearly abandoned in his embrace and fully consenting – but then, Lucius would rather not thought of what would have happened, had he been recalcitrant.

He felt sick at this thought and backed again. Then, as if he’d saw his movement from the corner of his eye, the Lord looked up at him and, to Lucius’ shock, addressed him a knowing smile.

The boy broke his spell right away and rushed back to third floor. He stopped on the landing, catching his breath. He was sure Voldemort saw him. He swallowed and straightened as he could, back to his cold self, before continuing his way down to the first floor.

The adults settled around a table, Abraxas at its head. Seeing them honouring him like a consort, Lucius wondered if his father knew his lover was cheating on him at this very moment.

 

***

 

An hour later only they felt the Lord’s magic appear, as if he’d just Apparated. The adults rose and Lucius saw from the corner of his eye the other teenagers climb down the stairs, Serafino included, as if they had stayed together the whole time. Elvina joined her mother; Serafino went to his father and sister. A circle formed around their master.

The Lord was smiling, with a smile that made Lucius shudder. Like the first time they met, he felt like it was specifically directed at him, and him only. He managed not to look away and joined his father, who was back at his place on Voldemort’s right.

“My friends”, the Lord started, “thank you to be here. Once again tonight, we will show to the magical world what our true power is and where are its best interests. The common wizards don’t take us seriously. They are blinded by the eyebath they created… they forgot what true magic is!”

He stared at them, one by one.

“We will remind them that, by force if necessary.”

His speech continued in the same vein, more and more passionate. Lucius saw people’s eyes shining around the circle while they started applauding. Even Abraxas gravely nodded to punctuate the Lord’s arguments. The excitation grew stronger, until Lucius felt himself submerged in it. Bellatrix, at Voldemort’s left, looked at her master, her mouth open as to drink his words.

The mood was electric, crackling with magic – their master’s, but also theirs, Lucius realized. They controlled themselves too well for involuntary magic but this was so surrealist that they arrived at the very border of their control. The Lord waved at them and all put their masks on. Those who weren’t coming got back, encouraging them. Then, Lucius felt something strange. He had barely the time to realize they were Apparating – all together, linked by the Mark and by their Master – then they reappeared in the middle of St Mungo’s hall.

The screams started even before the first curse was casted – people started to know their costumes. Very quickly, the room transformed into an explosion of colours and shouts while the attackers scattered everywhere in pairs, creating even more confusion. Lucius went up directly on second floor, Bellatrix on his wheel, and both hastened to block the floor’s chimney as they had been instructed. More prosaically, Lucius sealed all the rooms’ doors with a few _Loquare_.

Seeing that, Bellatrix casted him a withering glance and, maliciously, set the closest door on fire. Lucius grabbed her wrist before she could continue.

“Are you insane? The building will collapse on us if you do that again!”

“You really don’t get what our Lord wants us to do.”

Her words were cold but Lucius was distracted by a movement he picked up on the edge of his vision. He just had the time to jump, pushing her with him: a red light passed right where they’d stood a second ago.

Immediately, any rivalry was forgotten. Bellatrix casted a few curses randomly while trying to understand where the attack came from. In the meantime, Lucius erected protective shields around them. He finally identified a known face.

“There! John Harpinks!”

He was an Auror with whom Lucius already had the misfortune to cross path on a mission and, considering his white hospital grown, his presence was totally fortuitous.

Unfortunately, his intervention gave some courage back to the others and a young witch tried to attack them as well. Her spell rebounded on Lucius’ shields but pushed Bellatrix to pure rage.

“ _Avada_ _Kedavra_!” she shrieked.

The woman collapsed silently, wide-eyed, reversingamedication cart. The Auror immediately plunged behindthismakeshift shelter and started harassing them, preventing them fromcompleting theirtask. Per se, alone, he couldn’t hope to wound them seriously, but his stubbornness worried Lucius. If by misfortune reinforcements arrived before he finished blocking the chimney, they would find themselves in first line against Aurors.

Furious but not stupid, Bellatrix understood the situation as well. She jumped forward, out of the protective shields, to rush toward the cart. Understanding what she was trying, Lucius casted even more curses to cover her until she managed to overcome the obstacle. Once she arrived at the Auror’s height, he stopped helping her to concentrate on the chimney: their mission had to be successful or they’d put everyone in danger. He could only hope she’d manage to stand up to an experienced fighter alone – but, somehow, he wasn’t worried.

She was probably the only one able to defeat him in a duel in their small group, which made her the best duelist among the teenagers – and she probably was better than some of the adults as well. Anyway, she didn’t have to defeat Harpkins, only to keep him busy during a few minutes.

Lucius concentrated on the last spells he had to cast. To incapacitate a chimney was ridiculously easy. Making it irreparable for the next few hours was much harder though, especially since they would send the Ministry’s spellbreakers to fix them. They weren’t as good as Gringotts’, which reserved themselves the best by paying them with good gold, but they were still better than the average fifth year by far.

Lucius wasn’t average. The artifact was complex and fascinating and he didn’t have any difficulty to concentrate on its magic, knotting spells, following its logic which he found obvious and magnificent, even more fascinating than the adrenaline was now flowing his veins.

After ten good minutes, he was almost done. He started relaxing, thinking he’ll soon be able to relive Bellatrix by joining the battle – then a horrible burn burst in his shoulder, making him scream with surprise. He ducked on the ground by instinct, avoiding another spell. Apparently, someone else wanted to play heroes and took the Auror’s place behind the cart.

Gritting his teeth, Lucius lied flat on the ground and took his time to aim.

“ _Reducto_ ”, he whispered.

The spell hit the cart quite hard and, as he expected, operated perfectly, reducing its size in an explosion quite painful for the person who was hiding behind. The wannabe hero hadn’t casted any protective spell. Lucius got up without waiting to get back to work. However, when he was finally done, his vision was blurring.

He shook his head to put his ideas back in place. He extinguished automatically the fire Bellatrix started. Since he couldn’t do anything else for the trapped patients, Lucius dragged himself toward the stairs, joining the duelist half way.

Bellatrix did well, whirling around her opponent without leaving him enough time to aim, and incapable to cause real damages. The Auror was livid, probably weakened by some disease, and he realized Lucius was there only by receiving his _Petrificum Totalum_ between the shoulders.

Lucius couldn’t see Bellatrix’s face because of the mask, but he imagined quite well her mad smile when she raised her wand.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” she proclaimed with a terrifying joy.

The spell maintaining the Auror still yield at his dead and his corpse collapsed miserably on the ground. Lucius felt his stomach twist and his knee tremble. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath, scanning the corridor. It was empty: everyone ran on the upper floors where they’d be trapped like rats by the most experimented attackers.

“Let’s go”, he said. “I have to be healed and make myself presentable as quickly as I can.”

Bellatrix snorted, mocking, but didn’t protest: she had enough common sense to know the Aurors would be invading their houses as soon as they could and, then, they’d all have to be healed. Moreover, if he continued like that, he might faint, and she’d have difficulties to bring him back by herself.

“Alright.”

They hurried toward the Apparating point converted by the Lord and which was guarded by two of them. Bellatrix brought him directly to his room in Malfoy Manor. She removed her mask to look around while Lucius sat on his bed.

“So those are your rooms.”

Lucius glared while taking his white mask away.

“You don’t know anything about me and I hope it stays that way. Go back home.”

“You could _at least_ thank me for bringing you back.”

Lucius never saw her simper before, and he would have done without.

“Go clean the blood out your hands. If the Lord didn’t expressly order us to stay together, you would have abandoned me there.”

She snorted and Apparate without any more fuss. She did just in time: Lucius felt the usual shield of the Manor get back in their usual place. That meant his father came back and was alright, thank Nimue. He sighed with relief, removing his black robes to give them to an elf. Dressed more formally, he went to Abraxas’ office where, certainly, Dr Silver was waiting to heal their wounds. Only the adrenaline allowed him to walk to his destination, but he was happy to be wounded – at least, that distracted him from the deep disgust which invaded him each time he took part to those slaughter.

And, worse, when he realized he, somehow, liked the rush.

 

***

 

Going back to Hogwarts was weirder each time. It was like waking up the morning after a nightmare. The school’s mood was so _normal_ , contrasting with the attacks, the blood, or even the Manor cold quiet. Lucius had difficulties to manage the transition. Of course, he didn’t show that – and, anyway, those who ignored he wore the Lord’s mark probably supposed his bad mood came from his time with Abraxas.

However, he preferred to avoid the surrealist noise of Slytherin’s Common Room during his first hours back at Hogwarts. He only crossed it to put his things back in his dorm then grabbed ink and parchment to hurry toward the library. He haddeliberatelyfailed tofinish his Transfiguration writing to create himself an excuse. He avoided Serafino’s glance and went back up in the corridors.

He had notrouble finding a comfortabletable to write his essay. Sunday evening, the library was always almost empty – students tending to either do their homework in time or to copy them. The most desperate dunces would arrive only on Monday. Lucius settled anyway on his favorite place, a table half hidden, stuck between two shelves.

He carried his work quickly, relaxing while he was permeated with the millennium quiet of the place. He was thinking about how to formulate his conclusion when he heard a muffled laugh followed by footsteps, right behind the shelf on his right. Whispers were muttered without him being able to understand them but, at the second chuckle, he recognized Elvina’s voice.

He got up, frowning, ready to ask her what the hell she was doing there at this hour – it was getting dangerously close to curfew and, if he hadn’t been prefect, he would already been hurrying toward the dungeons to be sure to get there on time. He refrained at the last minute and instead separated two books silently to observe. She probably was with her last conquest or planning some trap with Una for the first Gryffindor who would walk in it.

He moved discreetly closer to the thin interstice. Elvina was indeed there, in good company: she was talking to Professor Fletcher. She was presenting him his back so he couldn’t determine what her expression was – Fletcher’s was, to his shock, lustful.

He recoiled, frowning. Where they talking about Una? He doubted it. The young Spanish girl liked to take care of her own business. What was going on, by Nimue?

He got silently back to his seat, quickly wrote the conclusion of his essay, then put his stuff away in his bag. The couple had moved away when he got out of the shelving to hurry to the dorm, his parchments under his arm.

“Duncan?”

Una, who was seated on the Common Room with a few fourth years, looked up at him.

“Malfoy?”

“Can I talk to you?”

She shrugged but followed him a few paces away and didn’t blink when he casted a discretion spell around them.

“What is the state of your relation with the person we talked about in Hogsmeade?”

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I didn’t need your help to realize it was going too far. I dropped him.”

“Would you know if he turned his attentions to someone else?”

She frowned.

“Don’t be silly. It was dangerous enough once. I just intended to have some fun, which I did, but him…”

Fletcher risked Azkaban in addition to his place, as Lucius well knew. That made his behaviour even more questionable.

“Could you please keep an eye on him? He would be less suspicious than if I did. And since he considered you stupid enough to get caught in his web…”

It was also an apology to have thought the same, and she smiled with a short nod.

“Very well, I’ll tell you if I discover anything. Did you finish your Transfiguration essay without difficulty?”

Lucius snorted.

“Of course I did. The day Mc Gonagall will ask a work abovemy skills didn’t arrive yet.”

She laughed, then got out of the spell bubble to get back to her aborted conversation. Lucius didn’t stay along; it was late and he was tired, even if more relaxed than when he came back. He showered quickly and put his nightgown. In the dorm, Serafino’s curtains were already closed.

 

***

 

The week ended calmly, even more so than they were waiting to go to Hogsmeade on the week-end – which meant Lucius didn’t have to go back to the Manor and hence wouldn’t participate to an attack. He decided to enjoy it. On Saturday, even Serafino’s livid face had some colours back – Lucius didn’t dare to ask him what shocked him so much during the previous attack but he heard the young man get up often during the night and noted the subtle silencing charm around his bed, probably to hide the screams caused by his nightmares. Or maybe his cries.

Lucius decided to invite them all – that’s to say Matthew, Sam and Serafino, he had no intention to endure Elvina’s company and hence couldn’t invite Una – to dinner on Saturday, at midday. They were too meet at the _Three Broomstick_ at said hour so everyone could enjoy his morning as they wished.

Since Lucius didn’t feel the need to warble like the almost-married couple, he simply enjoyed his bed until nine they went to take a look at the local bookshop. Of course, he didn’t buy anything: he couldn’t find there anything interesting which wasn’t already available in the family’s library.

He was wondering how to fill the last half hour when he saw Clint coming out of the herbalist’s shop, a big smile on his face and a magnificent brunette at his arm. The latest was all but rubbing against the fat Slytherin, her opulent breasts pressed against his chest indecently.

“What a face you’re making”.

Serafino, who was obviously waiting a few paces away, looked at him with an amusement which almost erased the dark rings under his eyes. He was as pale as the week before when he came back from mission and Lucius wondered what happened for him to get back there so visibly.

The teenager got up to join him.

“Jealous?”

“Just wondering how she manages to tolerate his smell”, Malfoy snorted.

As to emphasize his words, the couple passed a few paces away and, indeed, it was surrounded by an alcoholic smell doubled with a very unpleasant stench of sweat. Serafino and Lucius fought back the need to wrinkle their noses; better keep the best side of a future potion master, however how dirty.

Clint caught sight on them when he was about to cross their path and smiled radiantly at Lucius. He answered with a brief nod and was relieved the couple didn’t stop to talk to them. Seeing him was still difficult; he wasn’t sure he’d manage to talk to him without blushing, which would be absolutely horrible for his reputation. People talked enough about them when thinking they were only teasing him.

Lucius sighed.

“Any idea to pass the time while waiting for the others?” he asked to Serafino.

“Unfortunately no.” The boy went to sit back on the bench where he was before. “I had nothing special to do…”

“Why did you come so early, then?”

Serafino pressed his lips together.

“I could ask you the same, but since you want to be indiscreet, I had a meeting which was cancelled.”

“Alinovitch again?”

“Don’t be stupid”, Serafino hissed. Lucius took a step away, surprised by the venom in his voice. “I doubt he’d like me to see anyone else.”

He was talking about the Lord, Lucius realized. The _Lord_ almost came to Hogsmeade this Saturday, and he’d been unsuspicious. A long shiver stirred his back. How would he have reacted if he’d met him before everyone?

His knees were shaking but he managed not to show anything and just shrugged. Serafino relaxed, reassured by his attitude.

“Sorry”, Lucius said out loud. “I didn’t realize…”

He didn’t manage to finish his sentence: someone shoved him, almost making him fall. Furious, he turned, wand in his hand. A black teenager was already backing, hands raised. Shacklebolt.

“Sorry Malfoy. I didn’t see you.”

Still shaken, Lucius glared at him.

“I’m standing in the middle of the street and you _didn’t see me_? Would you need glasses, or is your brain simply incapable to process the information send by your eyes?”

The Gryffindor tensed.

“I was distracted and I already apologized. No need to make a mountain out of a molehill, Malfoy!”

“Oh but it was worse than that”, Serafino intervened with his most aristocratic voice. “This robe is ruined now that it touched someone like you.” Lucius barely managed not to stare wide-eyed. Serafino wasn’t usually prone to insult, he really had to have his nerves on edge. “After all, even your mother considers you unworthy…”

This time, Shacklebolt didn’t think twice before jumping on Serafino, firsts ready. The Slytherin seemed to be waiting just for that and casted a tripping curse which made the Gryffindor fall flat on his face. However, Shacklebolt was quick as well and casted a spell of his own before even having recovered.

“Stop!” Lucius declared with his prefect voice. “That’s enough!”

None of them listened, of course. Shacklebolt took advantage of the interruption to get up. Curses started flying. Lucius, furious to be in the middle of such a display, raised his own want to stupefix them both – but he didn’t got the time.

A red light hit Serafino harshly, sending him to the ground. A red-haired teenager restrained Shacklebolt before he could take advantage of the situation.

“Enough, Kingsley.”

The boy turned, ready to shout at whoever was stopping him, when he recognized his Quidditch partner.

“Adrian.”

“A duel in the middle of Hogsmeade? Serioulsly?”

“Why did you stop them, little bro?” declared a red-haired man arriving behind the Gryffindor.

“Slytherin vermin deserves to be crushed”, his double trumped, two paces at his right.

Lucius, who ran to help Serafino up, frowned.

“No need to be so harsh, Prewett.”

The twins grinned at him.

“A problem, Malfoy?”

“King of the rats.”

To their surprise, Adrian intervened.

“No need to push the matter. Kingsley and Anghelis had a fight, alright. You’ll soon be full Aurors, no need to behave like fifth years.”

“You’re not funny, little bro.”

“And those aren’t kids’ quarrels anymore.”

“Not with little _Deatheaters_ vermins!”

Lucius and Serafino couldn’t fight back an intrigued look. _Deatheaters?_

Adrian hit his closest brother’s arm.

“No accusations without proof, papa would skin you. Moreover, you’re not supposed to use this word outside the Hive!” he said.

The Hive was the Aurors headquarters. It got that nickname because it was an open space office.

Adrian sighed at them.

“Excuse them, Anghelis, Malfoy. Try to avoid duels from now on, though.”

Lucius nodded, too unsettled by the strange name to protest he had been trying to stop them. Adrian dragged his brothers away while lecturing the younger Gryffindor. Lucius heard him say Aurors had to have self-control in all circumstances and wondered if all the red-and-gold boys would ended up against him in battle.

Then, they were alone again.

“Deatheaters?” he asked to Serafino.

“No idea. Ask your father?”

“If it’s a word Aurors use at the Ministry, he might know about it”, Lucius approved before remembering something else. “What was this story about his mother?”

Serafino stopped straightening his robes, eyebrow raised.

“You didn’t know? She was an Auror…” Another one. “and one day she was pregnant. No one knew who the father was. Of course, they asked her to resign, which she did. She gave birth, put her child to her parents’ and went to live in France. No one ever saw her around here again.”

Now that was an interesting piece of information. To research about this might be worth something – Lucius hated not to know that kind of detail about someone he saw every day. Not that he ever talked to Shacklebolt, but Slytherins and Gryffindors still had several lessons together.

“Let’s go inside”, he decided, pointing the _Three Broomsticks_. “The others will certainly check if we aren’t seated yet when they’ll arrive and I need a drink.”

And also some time to think.

 

 

Note: I borrowed the word “Hive” to talk about Aurors HQ from Alix, simply because I’m so used to it I can’t think about it otherwise. It cames from her (French) fanfiction “ _Mon sorcier bien aimé_ ” which I recommend :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be kind, if you like the fic, please tell me so ;)


	12. 12

March started slowly, finally breaking the frenzy pace. Quidditch training calmed down since Slytherin was sure to win the Cup and final straight before the exams didn’t start yet. Lucius was careful to keep his homework up to date and his grades perfects, of course, but still. Only his week-ends at the Manor, his rare missions, his prefect patrol and the DADA society kept him busy. He invested himself as much as possible in the latest.

The sessions were nice and relaxing, especially since Mike Stevens didn’t manage to pay his fee a second time. Lawrence Goyle barely came since he was left without a duel partner. Serafino was almost as fierce as Lucius to improve his capacities, even if fighting was not his greatest strength, and Matthew was obviously considering his future adhesion to the Lord’s circle very seriously.

They were exchanging a few warm-up curses that evening when the corridor’s spells warned them of someone approaching. Immediately, Lucius straightened his robes and sat on the bench to look at Serafino and Sam who continued together, Matthew encouraging his girlfriend. However, when the door opened, it wasn’t on Slughorn – but on Bellatrix Black, flanked by the brothers Lestranges. Lucius tensed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t this society opened to anyone?” she mocked.

Lucius frowned. Until then, as they had anticipated, older students had snubbed what they considered being a kids’ club. Perhaps, their interest had been awaken when they realized only people from their circles were members. Sam didn’t count; everybody knew she’d become Mrs Walters eventually.

Lucius didn’t have any excuse to make them go.

“Of course, I’m just surprised you came by.”

“We thought it could be useful to train together. To raise the level”, she bragged.

Rodolphus rolled his eyes discreetly, almost making Lucius smile.

“It’s a bit aggravating but Bellatrix is right”, the oldest Lestranges said. “Your level isn’t bad, but we should learn to coordinate.”

Sensible words coming out of a Lestranges’ mouth! Now that surprised Lucius in a good way. Matthew and he exchanged a knowing glance before the former got up to welcome the newcomers.

“Very well. You know Hogwarts’ rules. We try to respect them as much as we can in order to avoid exclusion, of course, but the club received derogation for some curses. After all, this is a DADA society.” He took parchments and ink out of his bag. “Do you have your fee?”

Bellatrix was about to protest, but Rodolphus simply took his purse and gave ten galleons.

“For me and my brother. Is there a regulation to sign?”

Matthew made his most businessman smile and gave him the quill. Rastaban signed morosely, probably not happy to found himself the youngest of a duel club. He would necessarily be disadvantaged, whatever his level.

Bellatrix snorted but ended up signing anyway, giving regally five galleon to Matthew. Lucius got hackles up. She should cease to putting on airs just because the Lord seemed to like her! If she knew what he did to Serafino, she’d probably be green with envy.

Better for her to ignore it. This pest might want to avenge her pride.

“So, who want to try me?”

She offered them her most withering grin and Lucius couldn’t resist any longer. He stood up, taking his wand out of the case he wore on his belt, and bowed. Immediately, Bellatrix started laughing and, without saluting, casted her first curse.

Fortunately, he knew her well enough to anticipate it; it rebounded on his wards while he hit back. He heard Matthew protest – they were fighting way too close to the spectators, who might be hurt – and shifted toward the center of the room where their curses had less chance to hit anyone.

Bellatrix, of course, didn’t have that kind of preoccupation and was content with agitating her wand each more than the next. Several of the spells she used were unknown to Lucius who preferred physically dodge instead of risking to be disabled for several days.

Quickly, he was only able to concentrate or her and on putting her down, turning, occupying as much space as he could, pushing her into a corner. An _Incendio_ brushed his shoulder, which he shut off without even looking, casting an _Accio_ on his adversary shoes. He didn’t hear her shrieking laugh nor her acid comments, dodging, hitting back, struggling as if she was after his life. In spite of this, she still had the advantage, turning around him like if he was some interesting bug.

That made him more furious than her insults and he concentrated more of his magic in his curses. Quicker, more powerful… She stopped laughing, then speaking, and started using more vicious spells. One of those hit his leg which twisted horribly under his weight, and he could only take advantage on her exultation to hit her with a _Confundus_ before falling on a knee.

His spell hit her. That gave him enough time to remove Bellatrix’s curse and to get back on his feet, but his movements were now reduced, his leg too painful for him to rely on it totally. She took advantage of this situation to come closer, decreasingthe distance between them and making any dodging even more difficult while he casted more and more spells. He hit her once, making her drop her wand, and she had to lunge forward not to lose ground. He forced his leg and made two quick steps forward to place his wand right on the young woman’s throat, ready to fire.

He felt then hers against his belly, and smiled.

“Both dead, it seems.”

Bellatrix tried to glare at him but she was smiling as well. They were breathing hard, adrenalin flowing into their veins, their movements frizzed, keeping each other’s life on the top of their wands.

Matthew whistled, breaking the moment.

“Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a duel. Beautiful equality.”

Lucius and Bellatrix glared at each other. None wanted to lower his wand first. On the other hand, staying like that would be ridiculous. Lucius gritted his teeth. His leg was still aching. He didn’t want to yield before _her_.

She seemed to think the same because she didn’t back of neither, nor did she lower her wand. Their eyes stayed tied to each other, their pose fixed. Lucius heard someone sigh – and suddenly Bellatrix yelped, raising her wand, allowing him to take a few step back to bow at her.

“Rodolphus!” she protested, her cheek red with fury. “May I know what you were thinking?”

“I came to train, not to look at you two playing the ice statues. Give us some room.”

The young woman grumbled but retreated along with Lucius to allow Rodolphus and his brother to start their own duel. He sat down at took his shoes away with a wince. Matthew came closer, frowning.

“Will you be alright?”

“Yes, it’s just a sprain I think”, Lucius answered, massaging his ankle. “I’ll have to be careful for the next few days.”

“You can do without the infirmary?”

Lucius nodded. Any reported wound from their society would create complications. None of them wanted to be monitored by Slughorn and hence to be forced to exchange only basic spells.

“I won’t have any problem, I recognized the spell. If things got complicated by tomorrow, I’ll see.”

Matthew nodded and collapsed on a seat next to him.

“Well. Well, at least, their presence will add a bit of spice to our training.”

“I guess I’ll have to get used to work with her”, Lucius grumbled reluctantly.

“She’s really brilliant. You make a good duo.”

Lucius pulled a face.

“I’d rather not entrust her my back. Or trust her at all. And even if she’s a brilliant duelist…” The boy shook his head, talking lower so she wouldn’t hear. “She likes too much to hurt people. It isn’t always the most effective and certainly not my favorite method.”

Matthew winced but didn’t comment. There wasn’t anything to say. Lucius saw his eyes lose focus and guessed he was thinking about the summer, when he’ll be on first line as well. Perhaps he’d manage to delay his marking again – but Lucius doubted it.

“What about our secret project?” he asked, just to change subject. “Did you find anything new?”

Instantaneously, Matthew’s face came back to life.

“Well, not on the subject we’re interested in, but still! One of the persons of our list appears to be black…”

“Not to take into account, then.”

“Oh, yeah, but you have to take a look at the photo I found.”

Lucius blinked with surprise. What was so interesting on someone who had nothing to do with their research? Matthew laughed on his perplex expression.

“Don’t be so dark. I’m sure you’ll find the information most useful.”

Now curious, Lucius got up, careful with his ankle.

“I won’t do anything else today. Come along with me to the dorms and tell me about that?”

They were leaving Rodolphus as other prefect, anyway. Matthew followed him, even proposing him his harm to rest his leg – which Lucius refused with pride. He regretted it well before they arrived to the dungeons but no way to go back on his positions. He was however relieved when he sat down on his bed and didn’t wait to remove his shoes and massage his ankle.

“So, the photo?” he asked, ignoring Matthew knowing glance.

Matthew smiled mockingly and gave him a square cut from a newspaper. The small title announced “ _Terrible Defamations tarnish Gilson’s name_ ”. A small photograph showed a man glaring at Lucius – with a recognizable face.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt’s uncle?” Lucius asked, starting to read.

The article didn’t give any additional information, unfortunately, staying quite vague after such a promising title. Gilsons were a rather old family, established in Great-Britain several generations ago, but their genealogy became complex those last few years; three branches were fighting to inherit the patriarch’s fortune since he was a bit senile.

“Maybe, maybe not”, Matthew smiled. “I made some research. Those Horrible Defamations seemed to have enough ground to send him to Azkaban.”

Lucius blinked. A memory came back to him, a conversation he had with Serafino.

“And no one know who’s Shacklebolt father, right? He was raised by his maternal grand-parents while she went to live in France, ending her Auror career.”

Matthew smiled.

“I told you you’d be interested.”

“You mean Shacklebolt would be Gilson’s heir?”

Lucius wasn’t able to fight back his own smile, even if the situation wasn’t exactly pleasing. It was so ironic.

“If he had been acknowledged, yes. Denis Gilson, his presumed father, was the actual patriarch’s son. Since he died in Azkaban, where he hadbeen imprisonedfor life anyway, his cousins are sharing the spoils.”

“Somehow, I doubt Shacklebolt will intervene, even if he knows. He must be able to count until nine and suspect why his mother left.”

“You don’t know the best about this. Denis Gilson was one year below your father at Hogwarts, a Slytherin of course. I’m almost sure he was a member of our little _circle_ before it became official.”

Lucius froze.

“You mean he knows…?”

To say even his title in Hogwarts was way too risky. Matthew nodded.

“Hard to be really sure but that seems quite clear. The mother of our two dear Lestranges and Cygnus Black were both in Hogwarts during the same period. I’m practically certain _he_ was too.”

Lucius swallowed.The noose tightened gradually on the identity of their master – of his master, he corrected. Matthew wasn’t marked yet.

“How many name do we have left on our list?”

Matthew bit hislip.

“Nine.”

Lucius looked away, still massaging his ankle. He didn’t know for sure that knowing the Lord’s true name would be useful, but he was certain it would be dangerous. He went into too much trouble to hide it.

Which, after all, justified Lucius’ need to get the information.

 

***

 

Someday, he’d skin Samantha. And _all_ Slytherins’ first year. And second year. After third, at least, kids became smart enough not to get caught, most of the time, or at least discreet enough for Lucius not to intervene.

He still had to catch up his patrols, since he let Sam do most of them alone at the beginning of the year. To make up for it, he’d proposed to patrol each evening he wasn’t busy with the DADA society.

He’d quickly established his reputation among the youngest – meaning they really shouldn’t annoy him, and if they were stupid enough to get caught, they deserved whatever punishment he invented. It was actually fun to see how easy it was to terrify them. Of course, that didn’t prevent him from defending them against the other Houses, or even Professors, should that be necessary.

However, his evenings were quite busy, especially when the little idiots decided to play tricks on Peeves. Fortunately, none had been foolish enough to do the same with the Bloody Baron, who helped him settle what the poltergeist broke.

After a last glare to the culprits, who cleared off to their dorms without waiting for him to spell it, he collapsed in an armchair not far from the fire. It wasn’t a chair, though it wasn’t the best spot – which Clint was occupying. Lucius blinked. The seventh year was surrounded by people. It wasn’t usual. Clint might be brilliant at potions, he didn’t have any great family name on his side. No one tolerated his smell for long.

Galleons were being exchanged, as well as glass containers. Lucius understood suddenly: Clint was selling potions to the students.

“Is that legal?” he mumbled.

To his chagrin, the seventh year heard him over the noise. Clint looked at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I have the headmaster’s authorization. Of course, I’m not selling anything dangerous. And that gives some relief tothe work ofProfessor Slughorn.”

Lucius fought back the need to look away. He avoided Clint since the _incident_.

“If this list was approved by higher authorities, I’ve nothing against.”

As if he could have protested against anything done by a seventh year anyway. Even with the Malfoy name, the oldest still had some privileges upon the youngest at Hogwarts.

“Indeed”, Clint smiled. “That allows me to get my head in, and to have a better appreciation of the market.”

“You’re going into potions?” Lucius asked, interested despite himself.

“And ingredients’ selling, if I manage to.”

Lucius raised his eyebrows. Briggs was conducting the market too well: even Matthew’s father had difficulties with the importation of magical animals linked to potions. Of course, they recently lost their Indian contract but that didn’t mean their empire was weakening in England.

Clint seemed perfectly confident, though.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

Somehow, when a Slytherin was showing so much self-assurance, even if he was just a seventhyear withoutname andpenniless, it smelled fishy. Now, they had yet to see who would benefit.

“If you need investors for your business…” Lucius said without thinking.

Clint’s luminous smile surprised him.

“I hoped you’d say that! We’ll talk about this tomorrow, if that’s alright for you. I mean, it’s late and I have to take care of my clients before anything, of course.”

And, without more ways, he turned his attention back to the small group which was politely waiting for him. Bellatrix Black smiled mockingly to Lucius from the other side of the room and only then the boy realized what he just did: talking publicly with the one who accompanied him back to his room.

Merlin. Now he could just hope that having a purely commercial relation with him would shut the rumors up.

 

***

 

To Lucius’ surprise, Clint took him seriously and didn’t wait more than three days before contacting him to know if the offer was still valid. Even though he’d never helped young starters before, Lucius had seen his father doing so often enough, so he didn’t hesitate. If Clint was good enough for Slughorn to authorize him to provide the infirmary with potions, he would probably become a master at the very least, and the investment wouldn’t be lost.

Papers were prepared and signed. Lucius found strange not to see the intricate cursives of his father’s signature next to his, but it was also satisfying to make his first steps in the adults’ world by himself. Of course, that would probably not have a lot of impact, but it was a start.

They spent several afternoons talking business, sometimes joined by Matthew or, more rarely, by Serafino, whose family was essentially living from their rents and let others take care of their investments.

The Italian boy was becoming paler and paler every day, dark circles around his eyes. Lucius didn’t know how to comfort him. So he left him some air and didn’t put his nose in Serafino’s business. That’s what he would have wanted from him, had the roles been reversed.

After two or three evening next to the fire – frequenting a seventh year had some advantages – Clint proposed him a glass of a high quality scotch, which Lucius almost refused. The fat boy smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to eat you. I doubt you’ll forget yourself that much again.”

Lucius grumbled a few words and accepted the glass, closing his eyes to savor his first sip. He had to admit it was not any alcohol. Excellent quality, and it was served at the perfect temperature. Lucius noted to ask Clint where he’d found it. The fact he managed to take it into Hogwarts was a detail.

“So. I couldn’t help but to note you were selling potions almost at costing price.”

“Well, I’m not a master yet, am I?” Clint admitted. “In addition, I only have an authorization for simple potions. I don’t intend to have big benefices on those, even later. If the students weren’t that lazy, they could produce half of them themselves.”

“Provided they can differentiate a mandrag’s root from its leaves”, Lucius snorted. “Most people have difficulties to apprehend potions.”

Clint shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink.

“I’ll get the certificate this summer, as soon as I have my NEWT in Potions.”

Lucius blinked, impressed.

“You don’t intend to start as an apprentice?”

Clint smiled without answering. Lucius barely suppressed a smile of his own and turned the alcohol in his glass to gain some countenance.

“Alright. I trust your capabilities in that field. And I guess your quality of Slytherin guarantee some business awareness. I hope. I wouldn’t like to fail my first investment.”

“I think you will be plainly satisfied.”

Those last words were said in a low, almost suggestive tone. Fortunately, before Lucius had to find an adequate answer, he noted a movement in Slytherin’s Common Room: Una and Elvina were entering with great fuss. Una put her hand on Elvina’s arm, as to calm her down, and waved discreetly at Lucius, who sighed.

“Duty calls. I’m sorry not to be able to continue this degustation in your company; this scotch is delicious.”

“I’ll remember that. And don’t worry, we’ll do this again someday.”

Lucius smiled nervously before hurrying toward the girls. They were fuming.

“So?” he asked, annoyed.

After all, they didn’t know he was being embarrassed by Clint; to their eyes, they bothered him during an important business conversation.

“We can’t talk about this here”, pressed Una.

“Stop telling me that! I’m not stupid!”

Since Elvina seemed ready to explode, Lucius wasn’t surprised to see Una reminding her the most elemental rules of security. Una herself had her cheeks red with rage and her fists closed. What happened?

“We can do in the DADA society room. It won’t be used today.”

The girls nodded and followed him outside, whispering between the two of them, bickering about everything. The situation wasn’t that bad, then.

Once they entered the room, Lucius sat on a bench – his ankle still hurt a bit – and glared at them.

“I’m waiting.”

Una and Elvina exchanged a glance. Finally, Elvina said:

“It’s Christian.”

Lucius couldn’t help but to roll his eyes.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t mock us!” Una raged. “This _hijo de puta_ seduced half his students!”

Lucius frowned.

“I beg your pardon?”

Doing that to even one student, not of age in addition, was already a stupid risk from a Professor. But several?

“Oh he managed well, but he’s _flirting_ with all those little _perras_! And he gives them sweet words! I saw him kiss one, and he pretended it would help for her grades!”

“And he got _both of us_ ”, Elvina pointed out venomously. “No one does that.”

Lucius felt suddenly very lucky to have warned Elvina right away, when they fucked, that it would be just that and nothing more. And also, that she stopped trying to get him afterwards. She was scary when she was so icily raging.

“And how can I help you?”

“You’re the only one who know what happened”, Una admitted, “and we’re going to need as much help as we can get to elaborate a plan.”

“There is no _way_ for anyone to learn he… courted us”, Elvina explained, as if Lucius needed her to.

“I guess you have some ideas?” he asked.

The girls sighed. Apparently, they only went to each other’s head without actually thinking – and their enemy was no less than a teacher. That was just peachy.

“You’re going to sleep on this first”, Lucius required. “No way to start some thoughtlessvengeance. You want a plan? Alright. Wait to have one before acting. Am I being clear?”

He didn’t say out loud they put themselves in this situation alone. He didn’t need to; they seemed more embarrassed that furious now. That was better.

“Good. Tomorrow… No, let’s say, within three days, we’ll talk about this. In the meantime, silence! Don’t talk about this to the other girls neither…”

“As if I’d speak to those _putas di mierda_!” Una said, outraged.

Lucius tapped her harm.

“No insults either, except if you want this to be uncovered. Understood?”

They nodded, however reluctantly. Even furious they knew he was right. To elaborate a functional plan, they had to think calmly. Revenge is a dish best savoured cold, as went the saying. In this case, they had to be especially careful with their own reputations. Fletcher was a Muggle Studies teacher after all.

Lucius took them back to the Common Room where they left him to go to their dorm. With some luck, they wouldn’t compromise themselves – after all, no other Slytherin had been fool enough to take that course in the first place.

Lucius, however, was a bit disappointed to note the armchair closest to the fire was now empty: Clint had left the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm really late, and I think it won't get better because I don't find the time to keep my previous pace with the translations. Don't worry though; it will continue, just more slowly :)

After a quick patrol around the dungeons’ corridors, more by self-abnegation than true necessity, Lucius finally went back to his dorm for a quiet evening in Matthew’s and Serafino’s company. Lawrence had invited Stevens at his parents’ home for the week-end – to invite a halfblood, what a strange idea! – which give them the whole dorm.

Lucius only had to leave for Malfoy Manor the next morning and those few hours of rest were truly a benediction. Since January, it was probably the first evening without neither patrols nor _DADA society_ nor homework.

He climbed the stairs down four at a time and pushed the dorm’s door with a relieved sigh. Unluckily, the room was empty. Water was running on the bathroom, so either Matthew or Serafino was already there. Lucius collapsed on his bed and grabbed a book without much enthusiasm.

Twenty solid minutes passed before Matthew finally arrived, carrying several parchments, result of his hard work in the library.

“Well? Did you discover yourself the soul of a bookworm today?” Lucius mocked.

“Go to hell”, Mattew cursed. “Mc Gonagall is going to make me pay my poor grades until the end of the year. I thought I would have to work the whole evening but Professor Jones obligingly gave me a hand in exchange of some gossip.”

Lucius raised his eyebrows.

“This woman is way too curious.”

“Why? Did she ask you intimate questions?”

Kamaria Jones, the woman with the iron hand, flirting. Now that was a strange idea.

“I guess it just goes with her previous job, doesn’t it?” Lucius retorted. “Ridiculous pension or not, you can’t change how you’re made, when you’ve been an Auror.”

“Well, she seems to approach only Slytherins, so perhaps she’s simply looking for new allies.”

Matthew and Lucius exchanged a knowing glance. Right. Or she was trying to dig information about _Deatheaters_ or whatever how they were called in the Hive.

“I don’t want to know anything about this”, Lucius declared. “So, are you finished with your essay?”

“Yes, and for that, she can ask as many questions as she wants!” Matthew opened his truck to put his parchments away with an obvious satisfaction. “Cards?”

“Only the two of us? It’s not exactly thrilling…”

“We’ll ask Serafino to join us as soon as he’s done.”

Lucius accepted and took the cards to shuffle them. They played some games until the moment when the torch on the wall burst into flames, marking sunset. Lucius frowned.

“I know Serafino is a diva, but it’s been more than half an hour.”

Matthew looked up from his cards.

“He wasn’t feeling very good at dinner…”

“I didn’t hear any… intestines’ noises.”

Matthew put his cards down.

“Me neither, only water running.”

They jumped off the bed and ran at the bathroom. The door didn’t resist for long to their joint _Alohomora_ and burst open. Serafino was lying on the ground in a pool of blood – Lucius couldn’t help but to grit his teeth to such dramatization, despite the horror of the situation.

Matthew, being more practical, rolled Serafino onto his back and started to tear his sleeves apart to stop the effusionof blood. His reflex brought Lucius back to reality.

“No. Wait.”

He pointed his wand at the wounds, murmuring the spells his father had had him memorized again and again last summer, until he could cast them even while being dizzy. Abraxas had insisted in prevision of the missions Lucius had to do, of course, and right now he wasdeeply grateful.

Serafino’s cuts closed, slowly but surely. Matthew put his hand on his throat and, after too long moments, nodded.

“His heart beats.”

Lucius released a breath he had not realized holding. He raised his wand.

“Scourfigy.”

The blood spot reduced, leaving reddishstreakson the floor. He forced himself to control his wands tremors and to cast the spell again, correctly this time, then slipped to his knees, controlling his trembling respiration. Matthew, seated on the floor and still holding Serafino, was pale as a ghost.

“What now?”

Lucius shook his head.

“We can’t tell.”

“Look at him, Merlin! He needs care! He lost too much blood…”

Lucius ran a hand over his face.

“Clint. He could provide us with the necessary potions and won’t ask questions. I’ll cancel my trip to the manor this week, we’ll take care of Serafino together, we…”

“We should take him to the infirmary.”

“He won’t thank us if we do. Do you realize what will happen if _he_ hear about this?”

Matthew, already pale, turned gray.

“You think Serafino did this because…”

“Missions. Perhaps. Or just the Lord’s… _interest_. ”

Lucius bit his lip too late: the information had slipped out. Matthew opened his eyes wide.

“You mean the Lord…?”

“Appreciate the company of his followers in a very intimate way. Not me!” Lucius added quickly. “But Serafino. Bellatrix.”

Matthewwiped his browwith his sleeve.

“Damnit. Your father must be thrilled.”

“Does everyone know about _that_?” Lucius asked, annoyed.

Matthew sneered.

“It’s visible as the nose on your face, my dear.”

His nervous laugh died quickly. He put back his fingers on the hollow of Serafino’s throat, and took a deep breath.

“Still alive. But we can’t leave him like that.”

“Carry him onmy bed and try to make him drink as much water as you can, I’ll fetch Clint”, Lucius decided.

Matthew nodded, his expression a bit blank. Lucius leaned on the wall to get up, legs still trembling. He glanced at his friend, still sitting on the floor.

“You’re going to be alright?”

Matthew jumped and looked up at him.

“Yeah, yeah… Well, no, but I’ll manage.”

Lucius left him since he was awake enough to use a wand and hurried to the dorm. He took the time to check his appearance on the mirror: no blood on his clothes. He continued quickly toward to seventh years’ dorms and hesitated at the door.

If his father heard he came fetching boys in their dorm, especially Clint with whom he already had a _story_ , he’d cut his head off.

Not that Abraxas had anything to say on that point. Lucius knocked.

“Yes?”

He opened the door and stuck his headin thedoorway.

“Sorry to disturb. Clint?”

The fat boy looked over the thicktome he was reading. A smiled blossomed on his cheerful face.

“Welcome to our cave.”

“Thank you. Can I talk to you privately?”

Clint probably noted something was off because his smile disappeared. He closed his book and put it at his bedside, getting up without asking questions. He took a bag and exited the room with Lucius.

“What happened?”

“I’ll need a blood regeneration potion.”

“Lucius.”

Lucius didn’t blink at the seventh year’s inquisitive look.

“There’s been an accident”, he continued without flinching. “We’d rather not use the usual channels.”

“Lucius.”

The boy looked up at Clint.

“Good. Now. What happened?”

“Serafino is wounded”, Lucius muttered. “He won’t want people to know.”

“Show me.”

Lucius’ instincts rebelled at the suggestion but he nodded. He didn’t do anything wrong, after all, and Clint was a Slytherin. He wouldn’t talk. That wasn’t logical. If he had something to gain…

He met the seventh year’s sparkling eyes. No. Clint wouldn’t talk.

“Follow me.”

He led him up to the fifth years’ dorm. Matthew had levitated Serafino to his bed. He apparently managed to make him swallow some water, though not enough for it to make a difference.

Clintunceremoniouslypushed him away and casted a few spells on the unconscious teenager, then searched into his bag to choose a few vials. He selected two of them and forced them down Serafino’s throat, using a spell to make him swallow. Some pink came back to his cheeks, to Lucius’ relief. Clint casted a few more spells then took Serafino’s wrist and looked at his watch, frowning.

After a moment, he released the arm.

“He’ll be alright but you seriously should take him to the infirmary. I can give you the necessary potions but he’ll need a constant monitoring for the next few days.”

“We’ll take care of him”, Matthew answered.

Clint looked at him, then Lucuis, and sighed.

“Serafino will be paying the potions himself when he’ll be better. I only had some samples, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for me to give you more.”

“Won’t we need them in the meantime?” Lucius inquired.

“If that’s the case and his pulse slows down too much, I’ll take him to the infirmary myself. Am I clear?”

Lucius looked down. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Matthew do the same.

“Perfect. You’ll check his pulse every hour during the whole night…”

Clint showed them how to proceed and verified their results. When finally he declared himself satisfied, he closed his bag.

“I’ll come back in a couple of hours to check if everything is alright. No objections?”

They didn’t have any. Lucius mechanically escorted him back to the door, conditioned by a life’s habit. When he was about to close the door, though, he stopped.

“Clint…”

The fat boy turned at him.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

 

***

 

The night following the _accident_ – they’d never put another word on what happened – was one of the worst in Lucius’ life, even counting the last few months. Neither Matthew nor he managed to sleep, but they weren’t in the mood to talk or play cards. After the first few hours, Lucius took his book – an Elizabethan play – but the dialogs where dancing before his eyes.

He’d never been as relieved as when Serafino opened his eyes.

They avoided delicate questions. Each of them simply took one of his hands and clenched to assure their support. When Serafino’s healing was completed, they made him swear never, _ever_ to frighten them like that again. Serafino swore.

He was less than thrilled to learn Clint’s role in this adventure. The seventh year dragged him to the infirmary on Monday with some lie in order to have him stay there and, more particularly, be surrounded, Clint explained to Lucius.

“Physically, he’ll be fine”, he elaborated while enjoying a glass of cognac. “But he’s still in the same situation which pushed him to act in the first place, if I’m not mistaken.”

Lucius sipped not to answer. How well was Clint informed, exactly? What did he know, what did he guess? He couldn’t take the risk to tell him too much.

“We won’t let Serafino down”, he answered in the end, to fill the silence.

“Did you let him down in the first place?”

“No”, Lucius admitted, “but I’m not sure he realized that. Sometimes, one supposes people need some room…”

Clint shook his head.

“Slytherins.”

“You’re one as well”, Lucius pointed out.

“And I make the same mistakes.”

The seventh year didn’t elaborate, smiling above his glass.

Luciusowed him. He barely resented it. Without his help, who knows what would have happened? They’d have to take Serafino to the infirmary, and then… He’d rather not think about it.

Though reeking of alcohol, Clint wasn’t as horrible as he thought on first glance. He didn’t demand answers, nor did he ask for retribution to keep quiet. There was still the possibility he’d be asking for a service in return someday but, somehow, Lucius doubted it.

He trusted Clint.

The realization came as a shock. He barely knew him! But then, of course, the seventh year showed trustful during a crisis. Perhaps he was worth knowing, and his friendship worth the try.

The echo of an almost forgotten voice echoed in his memories: “ _you don’t have to wonder why Briggs chose Halwkin as his manager, do you? They graduated the same year. I wouldn’t say their friendship is the base of their success, but simply that, in Hogwarts, Briggs noted who might become a rival and made him his ally._ ” Adrian Prewett said that in the library, once. Clint would probably become a most brilliant potion master; knowing him would _always_ be worth something.

“You also have the same qualities, and not all defaults.”

Clint blinked, surprised by the praise, then stretched hislips in asincere smile.

“It's thesamefor you, Lucius.”

At those words, Lucius didn’t manage to bear his gaze and looked away. If Clint knew what he’d done, the crimes he committed…

A hand rested on his shoulder, making him jump. He raised his eyes to see Clint leaning over him.

“Don’t ever doubt your qualities”, the seventh year’s thump. “You’re a good person. Whatever you had to do for survival… you didn’t have a choice.”

“One always has a choice”, Lucius whispered with a hard voice. “If nothing, the choice to run.”

“Oh, dear Lucius, you are a good person _because_ you think like that.”

Lucius snorted.

“Usually, people tend more to consider me vain than to comfort me in my own self-esteem.”

Clint laughed and sat back in his armchair, breaking the tension. Lucius relaxed.

“Another glass?” the seventh year proposed.

“I wouldn’t want to offend you, but I don’t intent to get drunk in your presence ever again.”

He had alreadyhadtoo muchto drink to let such a comment slip. What blunter! However, instead of taking offense, Clint only laughed louder.

“Don’t blame me for trying.”

And he winked at him. _Winked_! To his horror, Lucius felt himself blush. Not that he considered even a bit reiterating his misadventure but he wasn’t used not to control the situation. Him not being interested made it even more embarrassing.

Clint’s hilarity only got worse, of course. Lucius grumbled and let him mock him, enjoying the feeling of camaraderie surrounding him.

 

***

 

A few days later, Serafino formally thanked them. Lucius would have been embarrassed if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

“I won’t ever be able to repay you”, the Italian boy added. “That might sound paradoxical but… I’m relieved you intervened.”

He didn’t manage to meet their eyes. Lucius didn’t know if he wanted to hit him or to encourage him; Matthew took the decision for him by putting his hand on Serafino’s shoulder.

“We’re there for you. Don’t wait that long next time before asking for help.”

Serafino offered him a fragile smile.

“I doubt you can do anything about this…”

“Well, at least being there for you? You seem better now that we know there actually _is_ a problem. Even if I only have suppositions about its nature.”

The young Italian winced. Lucius thanked Matthew internally for not admitting he’d told him about Serafino’s secret. The Italian would confess it when he’d be ready – maybe never.

“I’d rather not give any details for the moment”, he said, echoing Lucius’ thoughts.

“Still, you could have talked to us _before_ , and I insist”, Matthew replied. “I’m not shaking you, because it wouldn’t be a gentleman’s behavior, but it's not that I don't want to.”

Serafino blushed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be! … Do you feel better, at least?”

The questionwas a bitcheeky since Serafino’s situation didn’t change at all. Lucius almost walked on Matthew’s foot to make him back out but, to his surprise, Serafino nodded seriously.

“Yes, thanks. My moment of panic is gone.” It probably wasn’t panic, but Lucius could almost believe it. Serafino had a thin smile. “I’m still prisoner, of course, it’s too late, but I’ll try to manage.”

“You’d better do more than trying”, Matthew grumbled, but his hand still on his shoulder.

Serafino nodded vehemently.

Despite those promises, Lucius and Matthew continued to watch after him, not leaving him alone more than a few minutes, keeping his evening busy as much as they could. The week passed by quickly and Lucius found himself at Malfoy Manor before having fully recovered.

Abraxas didn’t appreciate his withdrawal from the previous week so the welcome was cold.

“You’ve been lucky nothing had been planned.”

“I would have come if that had been necessary.”

They glared at each other. Lucius, of course, had to look down first.

“That won’t happen again.”

“Obviously.”

Lucius hesitated. He couldn’t allow himself to refuse the Lord’s invitations or one of his commands. However, maybe he could convince him, through Abraxas…

“Actually, leaving Hogwarts each week-end will become difficult, and the same is true for Serafino and the others. OWLs are getting closer.”

Abraxas looked at him silently. It was not a perfect argument, of course; he always told Lucius he had to have perfect grades whatever the circumstances. However, to his surprise, he nodded.

“I’ll talk to him. He’s probably too busy with his current favorite anyway.”

Abraxas said those last few words with an obvious disgust, so Lucius allowed himself to wince.

“Bellatrix.”

“I won’t give names.”

Lucius snorted. Abraxas smiled at him. Lucius wouldn’t have been more shocked if the sky had turned green. It visibly showed, because Abraxas snorted as well.

“Go get changed, we’re eating in an hour. He won’t be honoringus with his companytoday.”

Lucius didn’t say the twice.

 

***

 

Friday evening was quiet in the Lord’s absence. Lucius caught the delay that had accumulated in his homework during the week – keeping an eye on Serafino had cost him more time he had imagined – and enjoyed the calm. He loved the antique place. Contrary to appearances, it was one of the oldest in England; its frontage had been restored and remade several time, following the masters’ tastes, since they never had been short of money.

The place didn’t possess Hogwart’s majesty, the school having kept its medieval castle look. However, being from Malfoy’s blood, Lucius could sense the magic running through the walls, linked to his family since generations. Each time a Malfoy died, he was buried in the crypt placed under the manor and his magic was linked to the place, reinforcing the already strong wards.

It was a kind of blood magic forbidden in the 40s by the Convention for the Regulation of Black and Dark Magics, which enriched the rare regulations existing before Grindelwald’s rise. The Convention ordered the dismantling of thespellsalready in place but, confronted to Malfoy Manor, it had to be amended, specifying that would be exempt spells _not endangering_ _the life or well-being of others_ and of which dismantling would not _jeopardize_ _England’s_ _magical Heritage_.

Each dead Malfoy hence continued to refloat the place’s magic. At each generation, the manor was given to the patriarch’s eldest son at birth, so it would be passed on to him automatically at his father’s dead. The manor’s master could control the wards but also, to a lesser extent, its walls. He could thus protect himself but also feel the presenceof intruders. Lucius always found this magic fascinating.

And one day, the manor would be his.

He wasn’t so fool as to touch to the complex curse which make everything work, but he spentsome ofhisafternoon poking at some piece of it, amazed by such a wonderful and complex magic.

On the evening, though, Abraxas came to tell him to get ready.

“Don’t put on the… official clothes”, he specified. “It’s a, well, an _informal meeting_ , which will take place at the Black’s.”

As if any meeting could be informal with the Lord. Lucius put on one of is best robes before joining his father to take a portkey. Cygnus met them in the hall and exchanged a warm handshake with Abraxas, to Lucius’ surprise. Cygnus was a weak man, crushed by the matriarch who ran the house, and he always thought his father didn’t like him.

“Welcome to both of you. Everyone isn’t here yet, you can settle in the _grand salon_.”

He escorted them there. The place was stifling with the Lord’s magic, like during his New Year Eve reception. Lucius shivered. He was still fascinated by this power but also feared what such a demonstration might mean.

He joined the youngest. Lestranges brothers discussed with Narcissa Black. Serafino was waiting, white as a sheet, but some colour came back to his cheeks when he saw Lucius.

“Hi.”

“They made you come from Hogwarts?”

“Everyone received an invitation yesterday, apparently”, Serafino explained. “My father was thrilled.”

Lucius gaugedthe size of theroom. The minor Black branch, which included Cygnus and his three daughters, had always had money, so the room was spacious… but not enough so to welcome the whole Lord’s _circle_. Were they going somewhere else?

While he scanned the room to find possible adapting space spells, he saw Bellatrix, drooling at the Lord’s arm. Samael Anghelis and Abraxas accompanied them, the Malfoy’s patriarch’s face closed. Cygnus, a few paces away, was grey-white. To see his daughter to the place of honour did not seem to suit him.

Lucius was relieved by this realization. Their parents offered them to the Lord. Seeing some of them having limits they didn’t like to see crossed was a relief, though Cygnus couldn’t obviously do anything to help his daughter.

Not that Bellatrix looked like she needed help. On the contrary: she was transfixed, looking passionately at the Lord. Lucius shuddered. She seemed ready to do anything for him.

People continued to arrive without the room becoming crowed. Lucius finally managed to pick up the intelligent piece of magic which allowed the room the discreetly expand and analysed it with pleasure. It wasn’t easy; the Lord’s aura prevented him to feel its subtleties, the same way a drum player just next to a harpist wouldn’t leave a lot of room to the latest.

When finally everyone was there, a pulsing ran through the Lord’s magic and all fell silent. Voldemort walked to the centre of the room, raising his glass at them.

“My dear friends, I’m happy to see you all here tonight.”

Samael Anghelis and Abraxas were on his sides, their magics mingling with his in a very intimate way. Bellatrix was left behind. The Lord probably realized she was not exactly impressive, comparatively to the other two.

“I’m sorry I invited you in such an offhand way…”

Negative murmurs started across the room; everybody was very happy to be there when the Lord called, however short the notice.

“… but I have an announcement to make. I took the opportunity to organize a small party which will take place in our _country house_.”

There were a few laughs when Voldemort smiled knowingly. Lucius wondered how the pointwasfunny.

“So. I was told our youngest, however how brilliants, would need time to study for their exams. They hence won’t be joining us during April, May and June and we’ll be able to enjoy their company again only this summer.”

Lucius blinked despite himself. At his side, Serafino made a strangle noise of surprise. Lucius smiled confidently at him and, after a moment, the young Italian relaxed.

“Of course, that means the others will have even more to do to compensate those brilliant elements’ absence. We cannot draw the Aurors’ attention to our young recruits.”

The carrot and the stick, Lucius though, seeing their parents nod without thinking. He doubted the mission given to the adults would decrease in the summer when the teenagers would be back. There would only be more and more mission for everyone. However, it that was the price to pay to keep the Lord from Serafino for a few months, Lucius would pay it.

Voldemort continued his speech for a while then declared the festivities could start. He clapped once; Lucius felt the familiar sensation of a hook taking him from the belly and just had the time to hold his breath before having to stabilize his arrival. They were now in the country house which already welcomed previous meetings. How did the Lord manage to keyport them all at the same time, Lucius had no idea, but he certainly was impressed.

Then he realized the decoration had changed. The walls, dark and sober, were still the same, but the roof was now much higher than before and, hanging on tick chains, two cages human sized where swung a feet above the ground.

And they were occupied: two young women, probably muggles given their clothes, were looking at them, absolutely terrified.

Voldemort turned at Bellatrix to take her arm.

“Would you open the festivities?”

Bellatrix gave him aradiantsmile and, in the same movement, casted a magnificent _Crucio_ on the closest muggle, who fall on her knees screaming. The hanging cage swayedto the rhythm ofspasms and, to Lucius’ horror, people started applauding and whistling around him.

“Now that’s the only sound we like from muggles”, said Nott.

“True nightingales”, Narcissa gritted.

She murmured with rage but Lucius was not the only one to hear. Rastaban applauded the idea.

“Yes, exactly! Nightingales!”

The shrill voice of the teenagers echoed in the crowded room, to the Lord’s ears, while the two Muggles cried now in terror and pain.

“Nightingales… Yes.”

And he smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

Spring rain replaced snow, uninterrupted but first hope of the summer to come. Between they and holidays’ heat, however, stood the exams. Lucius didn’t doubt he’d pass his OWLs but he wanted no less than perfect grades so he was working just as hard as everyone else.

Matthew and he were still looking after Serafino. Since there weren’t missions nor Lord’s visits, the Italian boy was slowly getting better. Lucius didn’t mention he’d saw Voldemort in _Hogsmeade_ one Saturday, a charming smile on his face and Bellatrix at his arm.

Reality caught up when Elvina and Una came confronting him after prowling around him for two week. They ended up framing him while he was quietly talking with Samantha and Serafino in the Common Room.

“You’re coming with us”, they said, arm crossed.

Lucius raised his eyebrows then rolled his eyes at their inflexible glare.

“Alright, alright…” he declared, rising. “Serafino, I leave you in good company.”

“Alone with Sam, without chaperon? You want Matthew’s wrath to fall on me, don’t you?”

“Oh, but I’d be _delighted_ to take advantage of your presence, my dear”, Sam simpered.

Lucius snorted then followed the two furies.

“What?”

Elvina looked at him, shocked.

“You forgot? You really did?”

“What are you talking about, Elvina?” Lucius asked, annoyed.

“About Christian!”

Only then Lucius remembered. With all what happened, he indeed forgot the two girls’ desire for revenge. He understood their point of view but, from where he stood, they’d walked in that situation all by themselves – and much more serious matter had been happening.

“I was distracted”, he admitted. “Did you think about a plan?”

Una nodded, obviously satisfied with herself.

“Of course. We’re going to arrange him to get caught the hand in the cookie jar, using one of us as a bait”, she explained, waving at Elvina. “However, we need a witness, which can’t be me: it would be too obvious. Better if it is someone with a pristine reputation…”

“Like a prefect”, Lucius finished. “But I doubt my word would stand against a Professor’s.”

Elvina smiled coldly. Seeing her expression, Lucius swore to himself never to find himself in her way.

“Don’t worry”, she said. “We thought about that.”

“She asked him to meet her the day after tomorrow in greenhouse four”, Una explained. “It was a brilliant comedy.”

“I begged him to take me back”, Elvina clarified, still smiling icily. “I told him…” She took a dramatic pose. “I’m ready to do anything for that!”

Lucius looked at her, shocked.

“Do you realize the risk? If my timing is wrong…”

“I’ll be ready to intervene if you’re late”, Una said. “At worst, I’ll try to join in…”

Lucius felt a headache starting.

“Do you realize you’re both mental?”

They didn’t look repenting at all. Before that determination, he sighed.

“Alright. I guess if I refuse, you’re doing it anyway.”

They both nodded. Lucius sighed again.

“That’s what I thought. Well. But if anything goes wrong…”

“We will only blame ourselves”, Una finished for him.

“ _And_ you won’t try that trick a second time. Do you realize you’re going against a teacher? He’ll realize that was a trap if you do it twice.”

Elvina’s expression went sour and Una crossed her arms on her chest. However, the latest surrendered when he glared at them.

“Alright, you’re right. We’ll try this once and, if he gets away with it, that will be the end of it.”

Elvina nodded her agreement but, seeing her expression, Lucius doubted she was anywhere near sincerity. Well, that wasn’t his problem, after all!

“Very well. Please detail everything you planned.”

 

***

 

At the beginning of the year, Lucius had enjoyed the freedom his prefect’s badge gave him like, for example, the possibility to walk around during evenings. Since, he got used to it. What had been an exciting adventure, when each sound might have been a professor’s step, was now a boring day-to-day experience. He didn’t feel the need to get out of Common room but for patrolling.

He didn’t know if getting this feelingof illegality back was an advantage or an inconvenient but, to say the truth, he didn’t have time to think about it. He had been walking through the school for half an hour without finding any professor at all, and he couldn’t be alone to find Elvina with Christian Fletcher.

He was beginning to despair and believe that he would have to face it by himself – whatever what they planned, he would never leave Una alone with them – when he caught the sight of a shadow moving at the end of the corridor. He winced when he recognized Kamaria Jones. Or should he be glad? The Auror’s word, however fallen, would certainly weight more than a Professor of Muggle Studies’.

Moreover, she was always looking for Slytherin’s company. Carrying her along would be even easier.

“Good evening, professor”, he said.

“Mr Malfoy”, she answered courteously. “It’s been some time since we last enjoyed each other’s company.”

“I have been busy”, he admitted. “I must thank my prefect’s colleagues for compensating my absences.”

He started walking toward the greenhouses, nonchalantly. She followed his slow pace quietly, not realizing he was guiding her.

“Yes, I noticed you went home every week-end?”

Lucius had had enough time to find an answer to that question.

“Yes, my father wanted to complete the already excellent education provided by Hogwarts, especially in goods management and finance.”

The penniless late Auror didn’t take offense of Lucius talking about a life which would never be hers. The Slytherin relaxed; some people took this kind of remark personally. He could understand his privileged position – hah! – provoked the others’ greed, but having to pay attention to every word just not to offendtheir sensibilities was aggravating.

“I guess it’s necessary, indeed. Do you have formal classes?”

Lucius thought about the Lord’s advices, about how he had been considered apt to be sent into missions, about the first time he had to kill.

“No”, he answered. “My father simply tells to me how to manage situations when they arise.”

Professor Jones nodded, giving her approval. Lucius felt curious, suddenly.

“Can I ask you an unpleasant question?”

“You didn’t accustom me to insolence.” Kamaria Jones sounded amused. “However, I reserve myself the right not to answer.”

“Is that how the Aurors’ formation works? I heard they receive mentors for their three years of probation…”

To Lucius’ surprise, the Professor’s face didn’t close at those words, becoming nostalgic instead.

“Yes. The first six months, they have a formal formation and areview of the basics – all those who get the necessary NEWs don’t have what it takes to start the job… But once the mentor is chosen, everything is learnt on the spot.” She looked at him inquisitively. “Would you be interested in a career at the Ministry, Mr Malfoy?”

Lucius almost choked on his own saliva.

“Me? An Auror? My father would kill me.”

The words got out without being filtered by his brain beforehand. Fortunately, Kamaria Jones misunderstood his comment and laughed.

“No employees among Malfoys, mh? That’s a shame. You have the makings of a good Auror.”

“Because I can duel?” Lucius asked derisively.

Professor Jones stared at him. He distinctively heard her clip slamming in the dark.

“That’s hardly an Auror’s best trait, Mr Malfoy. No. But you are dedicated to the causes you choose and you are very observant. No need to tell you you’re also far from stupid; others singyour praises quiteenough.”

Lucius blinked, surprised by so many compliments. He could see how those qualities might indeed be useful to investigate. Auror’s career probably wasn’t only about counterattacking black caped fools. He’d never really thought about it.

“Thanks”, he said after a few silent paces. “I am still not interested though.”

The black woman repressed a laugh, hardly surprised. Luckily, they were entering greenhouse four and Lucius didn’t have to find some other topic. Kamaria Jones had a good hearing: she raised her clip-hand before he could even see the couple.

Her eyes crossing his, she motioned him tobe silent and moved forward silently. He followed her without hesitating, casting a muffling-noise charm on his feet at the same time she did. She casted him a surprised glance but was soon distracted by the spectacle she discovered behind a clump ofbushes.

Lucius remembered very well how Elvina surrendered to him, that one time he embraced her, giving him the initiative. He was not surprised to find her pinned against a tree. However, he applauded mentally: she was moving in a way that could be understood as encouraging – for Fletcher – as well as an attempt to run away – for Jones.

When the girl saw them, she screamed with terror in a way that would have won her the public’s approbation, had she been on the stage.

“Help!” she cried, real tears rolling on her cheeks.

Kamaria Jones raised her wand in her left hand, pointing it sharply at a dumbfounded Christian Fletcher. Lucius took advantage of his recoil to catch Elvina’s wrist and to pull her to him, like if he wanted to keep her safe. She stumbled in a very natural way, scratching her knees on the ground. Lucius clearly saw her shove her hands in the gravel to soil her manicured nails.

“Lucius, Lucius!” she cried.

He lifted her and hugged her protectively. The little pest took advantage of the position to press closer than the rules of propriety usually allowed.

Kamaria Jones was still holding Fletcher at wand point.

“Now that was a very fascinating scene to interrupt, professor”, she said dryly. “I hope your justification will be as thrilling.”

“That’s not what it looks like”, the accused stammered.

He looked like he just received a punch between the eyes. Kamaria Jones raised her wand higher, menacing.

“There’s the easy way and the hard way, Christian. Lay your wand down on the ground and come with me.”

She followed his movements while he surrendered and hunched clumsily to let the piece of wood slide to the ground. She made him walk first. Lucius put his cloak on Elvina’s shoulders, since her shirt was half opened.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to follow me”, Professor Jones said. “Miss Pearce, will you be able to walk or do you prefer we head for the infirmary first?”

Elvina looked like a small girl gathering her courage.

“If Lucius helps me, I’ll manage.”

“Good.”

Kamaria Jones didn’t lose any more time and headed for Dumbledore’s office with a prudentefficiency. Since she had her attention fully on Christian Fletcher, Elvina turned to Lucius and casted him a satisfied smirk.

He fought back the urge to slap her – even if Fletcher deserved as much, she’d just ruined someone’s life – and gritted his teeth until they arrived. Professor Dumbledore had been raised from his bed by the pictures; he wore a purple robe wrapped over a silver-gray nightgown.

“Children”, he declared calmly, “please wait here. Minerva will stay with you while we’re settling this.”

The Head of House, who wore slightly wrinkled clothes, stepped forward. Lucius felt Elvina was about to protest; he clenched his hand around hers to prevent it.

“I’m sure the professor will hear us as well.”

“Of course”, Dumbledore confirmed. “I took the liberty to warn the nurse so she will examine you…”

“That won’t be necessary”, Elvina said quickly.

“Miss Pearce, I understand your reluctance, but given the circumstances…”

The girl nodded bravely. Lucius wondered how much of the expressions she casted at him since they met had been calculated to manipulate him.

They waited for at least twenty minutes, during which Miss Pomfresh arrived and accompanied Elvina in another room to auscultate her. McGonagall tried to start a conversation but Lucius wasn’t in the mood and answered shortly if politely.

When Dumbledore finally came back, he invited him upstairs, alone. Lucius accepted reluctantly, not without casting a glance at Elvina – she had puffed eyes, he wondered what spell she used. He climbed the stairs toward the headmaster’s office. Kamaria Jones and Christian Fletcher were gone.

“I am sorry I had to keep you here but the situation is serious”, Dumbledore declared, sitting at his desk. “I need to hear what you saw. Don’t hesitate to give details.”

Lucius sat in front of him, nervous. He never had been in this office before and had to admit he was impressed by the many magical artifacts. Installed on a golden roost, Fawkes looked at them lazily. The Slytherin fought back the need to touch the magnificent feathers.

“I don’t have much to say that Professor Jones didn’t already”, he said instead. “We entered the greenhouse…”

“Please start when you met Professor Jones”, Dumbledore interrupted.

Lucius didn’t argue.

“I met her in the corridors a few minutes before. It wasn’t the first time we met during our respective patrols and talked a bit.” He took a moment to think about their conversation. “We were talking about Aurors training, I think.”

Dumbledore nodded, as if it was capital information.

“We went to the greenhouse by chance”, Lucius continued, before correcting himself, “no, actually I usually go there at the end of my patrols. Some find them romantic.”

Of course, that was a mistake: prefects were warned at the beginning of the year they had to change their course every day, because smart students might figure it out and hence understand how to avoid them.

But then, most still had habits after a few months. This admission was calculated: Dumbledore wouldn’t suspect a lie if it wasn’t too shiny. _And_ everything he said was actually true, in case the headmaster used one or another lie detector device. He didn’t actually _said_ he’d took that path out of habit.

“And when you arrived?”

“Well, Professor Jones asked me to stay silent and I thought she’d heard other students. We entered discreetly… and we found Elvina, I mean, Miss Pearce, with Professor Fletcher.”

Dumbledore stared at him, looking like he could read his mind. Lucius checked his Occulmency; his shields were perfect. Then, he swallowed.

“He was holding her against a tree… I think, I didn’t have enough time to really look, perhaps they were only embraced. Elvina was not really making any noises before we got there; but then she screamed…”

“What did she say?”

“She called for help.”

Lucius caught his breath back and tried to remember, to be precise. He explained how Jones menaced Fletcher with her wand and how he’d pulled Elvina to him.

“We came here directly”, he concluded. “She didn’t tell me anything else and I wouldn’t ask questions.”

Dumbledore nodded. His tired expression made him look older. That kind of situation was probably hard on him, and would hurt his reputation as well as the school’s.

“Nothing else to add?” He stayed silent. “Then thank you, Mr Malfoy. You can go back to your dormitory. I would ask you not to talk about what happened tonight; an announcement will be made if necessary.”

“What about Elvina?”

“She will have to stay a bit longer so I can ask her a few questions, and will probably sleep in the infirmary tonight.”

Lucius hesitated.

“Should I send her someone? She might need the support…”

“Are you thinking about Miss Duncan? It won’t be necessary tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t leave Miss Pearce alone, and Miss Duncan will probably be joining her as soon as tomorrow morning.”

Lucius nodded and, after an approving glance from Dumbeldore, rose and left. Everything went as planned; now they had to wait for consequences.

 

***

 

He didn’t get the occasion to see Elvina the day after. As Dumbledore had guessed, Una went to the infirmary as soon as she knew her accomplice was there, so he couldn’t talk to her either. He had to wait for the following day’s evening: the two heroines came back to their dorm right before dinner and he managed to see them privately.

“So?” he asked, curious.

“I said he asked me to meet him for _private tutoring_ and talked about _upgrading my grades,_ which is technically true”, Elvina said, radiatingself-satisfaction. “They swallowed it all.”

“That easily?”

“I’m sure they already had doubts”, Una intervened. “It has been too easy.”

Elvina nodded.

“Moreover, Aurors arrived quickly and didn’t seem surprised. And…” She bended over mysteriously. “Our dear Kamaria Jones seemed to get along greatly with them, notably Seth Prewett, and accompanied them back to the Ministry.”

Lucius raised his eyebrows.

“The Head of division came by personally for something this sordid?”

Elvina shrugged, too happy to be at the center of everyone’s attention to think about such trivial points.

“They took Christian away. We probably won’t be seeing him for a while.”

The professor would most probably end up in Azkaban for the rest of his life, Lucius thought. Seth Prewett… Kamaria Jones who, far from resenting her late comrades, looked happy to see them, and followed them to the Hive… Aurors weren’t idiots.

“That stinks”, he whispered.

Elvina laughed but Una winced.

“We’d better keep a low profile for the next few days.”

Lucius nodded, to Elvina’s displeasure.

“Don’t be stubborn, Pearce”, he rebuffed her. “You knew you wouldn’t be allowed to brag about this.”

The girl pouted and left without a word. Una rolled her eyes.

“So. Dinner? I’m starving. My stomach was clenched the whole day, I couldn’t eat anything this morning.”

Lucius didn’t comment. If Una was having second thoughts, she could only blame herself. He didn’t feel ashamed for having stopped an imbecile. Christian Fletcher might not have _raped_ Una and Elvina – nor, probably, the others – but he still abused his position as a teacher and as an adult. Fletcher had been looking for troubles and got what he deserved.

He accompanied the girls to the Great Hall and seated next to Una. Serafino raised his eyebrows at him. Lucius shook his head. Explanations would have to wait.

He noticed from the corner of his eyes the professors’ table: it was full, which was rare. Most of them looked for quiet during their meals; others liked to work or simply were a bit misanthropes.

That evening, though, they were all present – except, of course, Chrisitan Fletcher. Lucius hence wasn’t surprised to see Dumbledore rise once most of the students were seated. Silence fell.

“I regret to announce you Professor Fletcher’s dismissal. He committed unforgivable crimes and was taken away by Aurors earlier this morning.”

He gave some time for the students to swallow the information, then continued:

“I won’t allow myself to publicly explain his defections, in order to preserve his victims. However, if some among you have doubts, testimonials or any other information, they will be welcome in my office at any hour, or in Auror Jones’, who is in charge of this investigation.”

Whispered started at those words. Kamaria Jones nodded at them. Lucius himself felt his eyebrows rose. _Auror Jones_ , mh? So she never left the Aurors corps.

The evidencestruck: no, she hadn’t left, but was sent in Hogwarts as a _spy_! Some teachers or seventh years’ students had probably been suspected in a way or another and – Lucius felt colt at that idea – perhaps they’d wanted to catch Deatheaters. Fortunately, Fletcher’s case distracted them…

Except if Fletcher _was_ part of the Lord’s circle.

Lucius paled and quickly filled his plate with the freshly appeared food. He didn’t hear Dumbledore’s last words and didn’t care. He now feared he’d put sand into the Lord’s wheels, however unwillingly. Nimue preserve him! But well… For a Muggle Studies Professor, Fletcher had been very ignorant, making muggles idiots in front of his class.

He heard Una murmur to Elvina she’d testify the next morning, then glanced at him. Better not tell them his suspicions. The less they knew, the better.


	15. Chapter 15

Lucius learnt in the newspaper than Flecher had been condemned to Azkaban. Some colours were back on Serafino’s cheeks, every day closer to his usual incisive self. However, Lucius didn’t get the opportunity to keep worrying about him or the girls for long.

A letter arrived innocently one morning, wearing the official Malfoy’s seal Abraxas used for official business. Surprised, Lucius hesitated to take the letter away to read it privately, then decided against: its special character made him fear an emergency. He opened it right away while starting breakfast.

When he read the first few sentences, however, any desire for food left him.

“Everything alright?” Matthew enquired. They went up to the Great Hall together and he was savouring some scrambled eggs. “You’ve gone pale as a sheet.”

Lucius nodded mechanically, finishing his reading. He checked the signature. Then started 3again, from the beginning. It wasn’t a mistake.

Someone shrieked from the other side of the Hall. Glasses shivered and a jug flew over Slytherin’s table to crash on the wall, while Bellatrix left the room with large steps. When she passed close to Lucius, she casted him a venomous glare and raised her index in a silent warning, without slowing down. The Hall’s doors, wide open as always, slammed behind her on the furious impulse of her raging magic.

Matthew didn’t understand at all what was happening.

“Well?”

Lucius creased the letter he was still holding. Then, reconsidering, put it flat on the table to smooth it, then folded it carefully and put it away in his pocket. He fixed his plate, took his fork to pick a piece of bacon, and stick it in his mouth despite his nausea.

“Lucius!” Matthew insisted.

The young man forced himself to chew the meat then to swallow, gaining as much time to regain his composure. Then, he raised his eyes at his friend.

“It seems”, Lucius said, “that I’m betrothed.”

Matthewstared at him,dumbfounded.

“To _Bellatrix Black_?”

“An honourable family”, Lucius answered.

“But you hate her!”

Matthew recoiled at Lucius glare, then winced.

“Sorry. All my condolences. »

Lucius nodded curtly and resumed breakfast, concentrating to keep his movements composed and his face blank. He wouldn’t make a scene. He wouldn’t humiliate himself publicly like Bellatrix just did.

_He was going to cut his father into pieces and nail each single one of them to the manor’s frontage._

 

***

 

His mood hadn’t improved one hour later, when he entered DADA classroom. Auror Jones would still be giving the lessons until the end of the semester but everyone knew she’d go back to the Hive right after the exams. Lucius almost regretted her departure; they didn’t happen to have a competent teacher in that field every year.

However, losing his time by sitting in a classroom after receiving such a bad news wasn’t to his taste at all. He settled at the back to brood overhis misfortune. _Bellatrix!_ Of all possible young girls from well-heeled families, why on Earth did his father choose _her_? She was an insufferable bitch who had been looking down on him since he was seven.

Of course, she could show a cruel intelligence and possessed great powers; of course, she wore an important name and would give an interesting dowry; and of course, she wasn’t ugly and they fought well together… but it was _Bellatrix_ , bloody hell! The mere idea to spend his whole life with her at his arm made him sick.

A metallic click startled him. He looked up at Kamaria Jones who snapped her clip-hand once again; he didn’t even hear her enter the room.

“A bit distracted today, Mr Malfoy? Pray pay some attention to the lesson, it should raise your interest.”

Lucius whispered some apology and the professor went back at the front of the room, where laid a brown leather trunk. It wasn’t there when he arrived; Jones must have taken it with her. Lucius squinted. Said trunk shivered regularly on the impulsion of the creature inside. A boggart?

“I captured this for the third years whose curriculum, as you well know, focus on magical creatures”, Professor Jones explained. “Let’s see if you remember your studies well. Who can tell me what this is?”

A few hands raised on Gryffindors’ side. After two unsuccessful answers, Molly Prewett was the one to suggest a boggart, gaining five points for her House.

“Now, I propose you a practical lesson”, Kamaria Jones continued. “It will be the last before we start the review sessions. Your fears being more elaborated than third years’, I’ll ask to the members to the Slytherin House to get out first and to wait in the corridor. When the Gryffindors will be done, they will be allowed back to their Common room to start studying.”

Lucius raised his eyebrows. Separating the Houses during a lesson? That went strongly against Dumbledore’s politics. However, Kamaria Jones was being cautious: not only that would avoid friction between Houses, not exactly welcome when a boggart was in the room, but a smaller group would be easier to manage should anything happen. Therefore, he didn’t protest and took his bag to wait outside along with the others.

Samantha huddled up to Matthew as soon as the door closed behind them.

“I hope I won’t see spiders”, she grumbled.

“You’ve never been afraid of spiders”, Matthew said.

“Of course, but you never know. Those things are filthy.”

Lucius smiled at their nonsense, then his eyes met Serafino’s. He frowned, questioning, but the young Italian shook his head: he’d manage.

A _Silencio_ probably protected the room because they didn’t hear a thing during the Gryffindors’ performance, which was relatively brief. After half an hour of waiting, they got out in line. Molly Prewett hesitated.

“Good luck”, she said, before running after the others.

Lucius shrugged then went in. Kamaria Jones had pushed the furniture against the walls to make room for both the students and the creature.

“Make a line over there”, she ordered. “Who wants to start?”

The Slytherins hesitated: they probably all had some dark secret to protect. Finally, Mike Steven stepped forward. Professor Jones nodded.

“Let’s go.”

And she opened the trunk.

A breath escaped from it, or a shadow, which suddenly froze into a black, dead, burnt to ashes tree, with claw-like pending branches. Lucius wondered what that metaphor meant. Mike Steven didn’t wait to raise his wand:

“ _Ridikulus!_ ”

Immediately, the sinister tree was covered with coloured garlands and red Christmas balls. The boggart creaked and flew back in the trunk.

“Next!” required Professor Jones.

Lawrence Parkinson knocked down effortlessly the silver snake which tried to attack him and Una revealed she was afraid of birds – birds she put spring on in a wave of her wand.

The transformation became darker with Samantha, whose boggart was a cage hanging on a chain, dangling in the void. Lucius saw in a flash the young muggle prisoner twisting under the Lord’s _Crucio_ and didn’t dare to look at Matthew, who probably told what happened to his girlfriend. The cage was soon filled with a big yellow plushchick, and the boggart backed down.

For Matthew, it was an arm sliced from its body, which he made waltz on its fingers. Once again, no glances were needed: for Lucius, the symbol was obvious.

He tried to go forward then, but Serafino acted first. The boggart changed into a skull made of smoke and, soon, a snake got out of its grimacing mouth. Lucius’ face went white. If the Lord ever heard about that… Kamaria Jones’ face was stone-blank. She probably imagined Serafino feared to find that symbol on the top of his house – not on his arm.

The Italian boy raised his wand and casted the spell with a stunning calm. Soon, the skull was choking on the snake, coughing and grumbling, and the boggart was back in its trunk.

“Mr Malfoy? There’s only you left.”

Lucius glanced at Elvina, which smiled angelically at him. Oh, right; Kamaria Jones was guessing her boggart would be Christian Fletcher and wanted to spare the poor victim. He remembered not to trust Elvina, ever. She was a dangerous enemy.

He took a deep breath and got forward, ready to meet anything. What was going to get out of that for him? Another cage? The Lord himself? No, he didn’t fear any of those or, at least, he considered himself able to face them. An Auror? Now that would be ironic. Bellatrix? Lucius snorted. Absolutely not. He hated her, he didn’t fear her.

The boggart got up, taking human form, a form well known by the teenager: a straight back, square shoulders in grey, perfectly cut robes, long blond hair around a severe face.

“Well”, the boggart asked with Abraxas’ voice. “What did you do to disappoint me today?”

Lucius felt his stomach shrink. This was so stupid. He wasn’t afraid of his father! And then, this was so terribly childish, especially after the much darker images provoked by the others… And yet, he had to suppress a shiver in front of the icy, withering gaze of that pale copy.

“Don’t stay gaping there!” The creature sounded annoyed. “Look at you. Can’t you ever be worth something?”

“ _Ridikulus_ ”, Lucius hissed.

A glittering hat landed on the false Abraxas’ head and a golden sparkling dress appeared on him all at once. Slytherins laughed despite themselves before the improbable spectacle of the Lord’s right-hand man dressed like some muggle clubber with a bad taste for clothes. The boggart squirmed to go back to the relative shelter of its box.

Kamaria Jones closed it with a wave of her hand and the lock clicked.

“Congratulation to you all. Excellent reflexes and good control. That’s what you’ll need, whatever what you’ll be facing in the future. Preserve those qualities.”

She looked at them, then smiled.

“The others think Slytherins always work every man for himself. They couldn’t be more wrong. Don’t forget, when you’re out of Hogwarts, that you’ll always have allies.”

Lucius glanced at the group and noted Elvina stood right next to Una and Sam had taken Matthew’s hand in hers, probably ever since they both had had their turn. Serafino himself was standing closer to Lucius.

The boy hid his smile behind his hand. Allies indeed…

“Now, go. I don’t want to see you out of your House before the OWLs.”

They got out in good order, staying grouped for once. Matthew poked at Lucius.

“Well, for a last lesson, it has some panache, right?”

“I’ll miss her”, Lucius admitted. “We’ll probably have some incompetent again next year.”

“That’s what you said last year too”, Sam laughed.

She might not be wrong.

“To be too pessimistic, you don’t enjoy anything”, she scolded him gently.

“I’ve had a mostly pleasant year in your company”, Lucius admitted.

He had been sold and marked, he had killed and almost been killed. He had plotted and lied and inquired after hidden truths. Many, many negative points, yes; but that year also soldered links which wouldn’t be breaking anytime soon.

He thought about the mark on his arm, then about Bellatrix, and frowned. Some of those links would be heavier to carry than the others.

 

***

 

Classes stopped one after another to be replaced by the revisions’ frenzy. In Slytherin like in the whole school, a pressure was felt, though not at the same level: most of them had to bring home the best grades or they’ll be buried under lessons during the whole summer. Lucius considered Latin and Dark Arts were more than enough so he well intended to obtain only Os.

Anyway, from a Malfoy, nothing less would be acceptable.

He hence spent his days reading books, like the others, even though OWLs level was relatively basic. DADA and Charms were quickly finished – he knew he didn’t have anything to fear for those fields – only to be replaced by Potions and Arithmancy. Abraxas was a Potion Master and wouldn’t tolerate an EE from Lucius, or even an unanswered question.

This constant work occupied his mind almost enough for him not to think about Bellatrix. The young woman was busy studying as well, so they only met in the silence of the library or in the studying atmosphere of the Common Room. Each time, she glared at him as if he was sole responsible of their situation.

Once, he gatheredhis courageto try totalk to her. She didn’t even deign looking up at him, even less talk to him; he didn’t insist and went away furious.

Lucius thought, of course, about writing to his father to ask him to reconsider his decision. He only refrained from doing that because he knew Abraxas. Such a request from him would meet a cold reception at best. He would have been capable to force him to get out with Bellatrix during the whole summer just to show everyone they made a beautiful pair. No way to impose that on himself. Dona’s sighs felt really far away.

He buried himself under books. OWLs arrived quickly and passed by even more so, following each other without interruption, sleeping hours becoming scarce between books and parchments. Lucius barely took the time to read his newspaper each morning, where Deatheaters attacks – the word had been discovered and adopted by the press – appeared more and more often.

The paper’s tone became darker and announced even more serious events, to the point to Lucius started wondering if the Lord managed to infiltrate it. After all, he was looking after this permanent state of fear, first step of his future domination.

So, when Lucius got out of his last exam’s room, he couldn’t suppress a sigh. Brilliantly passed or not, he was done with his OWLs. Only summer was waiting forward.

Summer, Bellatrix, the Lord, politics and murders. How peachy.

“Well, Mr Malfoy?” Kamaria Jones asked when she heard him sigh. “After your more than adequate performance and the holidays upon you, one would have imagined you’d be more enthusiastic.”

“It’s the tiredness which makes me sigh”, Lucius lied. “I’ll be back to myself tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep.”

The Auror snorted, her way to laugh.

“Probably. We live in another world during the exams’ period, don’t we?”

Lucius nodded, though he didn’t see it in the same way she did. He went toward Slytherin’s Common Room and wasn’t surprised when she followed.

“You are strangely curious about your students”, Lucius couldn’t help but notice out loud. “Or is it just me?”

“I’m an Auror, isn’t it my place to be curious about everything? But then, perhaps you find my presence a bit oppressive?”

Lucius raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s a question without any good answer.”

Professor Jones snorted again and Lucius relaxed. What did he have to hide, anyway? Nothing she could suspect, for sure.

“Allow me to ask another then”, the Auror continued. “Did you take me along on purpose to the fourth greenhouse when Christian Fletcher and Elvina Pearce where busy?”

The question took Lucius totally by surprise and he almost missed a step. He recomposed and, on reflection, stopped.

“I don’t see what would possibly have been my interest in that”, he answered, as blank as possible. “Trap a professor? Really? Teaching Muggle Studies certainly wouldn’t have been enough of a reason…”

“I wouldn’t say _trapped_. We’ve had enough proof that he indeed committed the crimes he was accused of.”

Lucius shook his head.

“That still wouldn’t have brought anything to me.”

“Really? Not even a service offered to someone? That makes people accountable.”

Lucius met her eyes without blinking. She didn’t have any proof and, even if she did, what could she accuse him of? Not to have told right away that he knew what happened between Fletcher and Elvina? To have presented it as a rape when it wasn’t? But the law considered it as such, Elvina not being of age. Then why was Kamaria Jones fishing?

“Very well, you didn’t do anything. I wish you happy holidays, Mr Malfoy. I hope we’ll have the occasion to meet again.”

And the Auror went away, smiling quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so now, I've caught up with the French publishing, which means updates will be scarcer from now on :)  
> I've already written chapters 16 to 18, then even French isn't written yet. Since I've reached the end of Lucius' 5th year and this is a good moment to make a pause, I'll probably publish chapters 16 and 17 once a month. They cover the summer. After that, well, 6th year will be starting and I'll have to work hard for the updates not to take too long... So don't hesitate to encourage me, it is always so great to hear what you think of my writings, guys!  
> Thanks a lot for having read until now!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, isn't it? XD Sorry for the long wait. I haven't been writing lately and didn't want to start Lucius' 6th year until I'd have some more chapters, but it's been too long.  
> I've been reviewing all previous chapters so, hopefully, the translation is a bit better.  
> Please let me know if you like the story, as always ;)

Summer started as badly as school year finished. As soon as Lucius gave his trunk to an elf so it would be taken to his rooms, another came to him to inform him he’d been summoned in the blue salon. He headed there to find the Lord himself drinking wine with Abraxas. The two men were conversing so Lucius waited patiently for them to notice him.

“… no way”, Abraxas was explaining with the aggravated tone of who already went through the same argument several times. “We’re way too much under watch to keep that kind of thing in the Manor.”

“Blacks didn’t have your scruples”, Voldemort pointed out. “They already have several nightingales in their secondary house.”

“But I don’t see any in their townhouse. Furthermore, you know Seth Prewett keep an especially watchful eye on us.”

The Lord was about to retort when he saw Lucius. The young man bowed politely.

“My Lord. Father.”

The latter looked at him. He didn’t make any comment, which the teenager found satisfactory: he would have pointed out any flaw he would have found.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt, but I was told you were waiting for me.”

“Indeed”, the Lord confirmed. “We didn’t notice it was so late.”

“How can I make myself useful?”

Voldemort waved at an armchair near theirs. After a nervous glance at Abraxas, who nodded, Lucius sat down.

“You’re of course aware that one of your teachers has been sent to Azkaban, this year.”

Lucius tensed. He didn’t expect the _Lord_ of all people to talk about Christian Fletcher.

“The Professor of Muggle Studies, yes. Doesn’t it satisfy you? He was teaching nonsense to his pupils…”

“Nonsense, indeed, on my order”, Voldemort revealed.

 _Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh_ (1). Hah! Lucius managed to keep a blank face: he was becoming good at that.

He heard Una and Elvina talk about their lessons and judged they were given by an inept fool. But apparently, Christian Fletcher was more of a brilliant comedian, managing to convey for years prejudices about muggles through his class, which he pretended to give in good faith. A spy within Hogwarts’ fortress, sitting at Dumbledore’s table…

“I didn’t imagine you had someone in Hogwarts. I mean, not a professor giving _that_ class”, Lucius quickly corrected.

“Who would be less suspicious?”

The young man nodded, then frowned. Voldemort was smiling. Was there anything else to Fletcher’s role than what he already deduced?

“May I ask if you gave him any other instructions, my Lord?” Lucius ask, formulating his request with care.

Voldemort laughed softly and turned at Abraxas.

“Your son is brilliant. Much like you at the same age.”

The Malfoy’s patriarch snorted and didn’t answer. The Lord’s attention went back to Lucius.

“Indeed I did. Christian had to bring me back an ingredient very useful for the elaboration of certain potions, but whose sale is illegal in most countries. It’s extremely rare, even on black market, but can be collected in Hogwarts if one is skilled.”

Lucius’ mind started thinking, and thinking quickly. A forbidden ingredient? There were plenty of those. Ones which couldn’t be found on the black market were way scarcer. Especially knowing the Lord’s network stretched far beyond the intimate circle of his _friends_.

And it would be in Hogwarts? Lucius’ first thought went to the Forbidden Forest but, it rejected it right away. It wasn’t necessary to be a teacher to get close to the creatures haunting the place. But perhaps the Lord was talking about unicorns? No, a maiden would have been preferable in that case…

His heart missed a beat. Maidens. Hogwarts didn’t lack of those. And Christian Fletcher seduced more than one…

“Did you just get to which ingredient I was referring?” Voldemort sounded amused.

Lucius swallowed.

“I wouldn’t dare to pretend I understand my Lord’s thought…”

“A maiden first blood”, Abraxas interrupted before Voldemort could push. “More precisely, the blood she loses at the hymen’s rupture. It is very useful for protective potions, among others.”

Lucius paled despite himself. He would rather not have been right, for once.

“All the girls Christian seduced didn’t possess that capacity”, the Lord clarified. “He also used his charm to poll those who were ready to follow us.”

The young man nodded and force himself to talk.

“I guess losing him is a hard blow. To put a professor in Hogwarts must have been difficult.”

“Indeed”, Voldemort confirmed. “However, I have other assets. Some of my Deatheaters are in Hogwart without being professors.”

He smiled at those words. Abraxas intervened to change the subject:

“Deatheaters? Do you really intend to use the Aurors’ vocabulary now?”

“I found the term… amusing. I couldn’t have invented a best one.”

This little chat allowed Lucius to prepare his answer. Thankfully, he had an easy excuse.

“I’m afraid most of us wouldn’t be able to do this. The Blacks would be offended to see me seduce young ladies when I’m betrothed to theirs, and that would be the same for the others.”

Voldemort frowned. Lucius tensed, ready to take his anger, but the Lord quickly relaxed, laughing softly.

“I see. Probably the Blacks wouldn’t like it indeed. I ignored you were so attached to this engagement.”

Better die than marry Bellatrix, Lucius thought, focusing on his occulmency wards. But better be chained to her for his whole life than advocate for the Lord within Hogwarts – or worse, prostitute himself for the sole benefit of giving him virginal blood.

His studied lack of reaction made the Lord laugh again. His laugh was like a panther’s purr: sweet but coming from a very dangerous creature. All the better if he kept laughing.

“Very well, I won’t push the matter further. I might ask their help to some of your classmates though.”

“They’re all in the same situation I’m in.”

“We’ll see.”

Lucius noted to warn them as soon as he could. The Lord might notice but he refused to protect himself from this role only to see it transferred to Matthew or, worse, Serafino. The latter wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Is there anything else, my lord?”

“No, no. Please, go refresh yourself. Hogwarts Express’ journeys are always too long not to be tiring.”

Lucius got up, bowed his head and when toward the door. He had just put his hand on the doorknob when Voldemort’s voice raised once again:

“I imagine you have no information about how Christian was arrested?”

Lucius froze for a second before looking at him, half turned, eyebrows raised.

“I was there when he was caught red-handed, as you probably know. It was bad luck. However, for a servant being in such a delicate position, he was exhibiting himself in a very public place.”

“You dare to criticize one of my Deatheaters?”

“If that’s the best way to serve you, I do, my lord.”

Voldemort laughed in delight and waved at him, allowing him to go. Lucius exited, hands sweaty, and walked calmly toward his rooms. Just in case an elf was looking.

Bloody hell! He didn’t expect to be interrogated about Christian Fletcher at the Manor, even less by the Lord himself! Should he warn Elvina and Una? He wasn’t sure. They dug their own graves, after all. However, if they talked, they might admit he was involved. And if the Lord understood he helped them to lock one of his servants up… Nimue! He had to take risks again.

He turned the corner and almost bounced against his mother, who was at the window. He relaxed a bit.

“Mother…”

She jumped and turned at him. When she was him, her face twisted into a grimace.

“You! _You_! Horrible sodomite! How dare you to appear before me as if nothing happened?”

Lucius gaped. That didn’t seem to bother her, because she kept going:

“You! Marrying me to cheat on me right away! With _Tom_ , moreover! How dare you, Abraxas? How _dare you_?”

She tried to hit him; the teenager moved back, catching her wrist in the same motion, livid.

“Mother! Mother, I beg you, it’s me, Lucius. Mother, pull yourself together!”

Instead of listening, she shrieked and tried to get away. Hasty footsteps echoed in the corridor and, a few seconds later, Abraxas drove her back, holding her firmly.

“Call Dr Silver and tell him your mother is having a crisis. Go!”

Lucius ran away more than he rushed toward the nearest chimney. He casted the floo powder with a trembling hand, splitting some on the carpet. The doctor answered in less than a minute and arrived only a moment after hearing his explanations – he was one of the few people allowed to come to the Manor by floo instead of the front door.

“Where is she?”

“In the corridor… Next to the night hall”, Lucius said, then he stopped the doctor before he could go. “Since when does this happen? Is her condition that bad?”

The physician casted him a compassionate glance, and sighed.

“Your father didn’t tell you anything.” That was an ascertainment. “It’s been a few months and her condition is getting worse. I already recommended having a full-time medical presence at home.”

“But her health…”

“Is very good. It’s her nerves who aren’t.”

Lucius let him go and Dr Silver went toward the stairs. Lucius didn’t find the courage to follow.

 

***

 

Lucius had a hard time finding sleep that night. The familial dinner had been cold, with Abraxas and him only: the Lord had left and his mother “was getting some rest in her rooms”. From what Lucius managed to learn from Dr Silver, he had had to give her a sleep potion. Abraxas announced a woman would start keeping her company the very next day.

When did the situation become that bad?

Lucius did his best to relax then, since sleep didn’t seem to bother, to distract himself. He tried reading a book but didn’t manage to concentrate on the plot. He started a letter to Clint, to offer an investment who would allow him to start his company with a solid basis – but he didn’t managed to really involve himself and, in the end, decided to finish this very important mail later.

When he woke up in the morning, he felt like he spent the night waiting for hours to pass by. He probably did sleep since the rings under his eyes weren’t that bad. He washed and dressed; he was required to go in an official visit to the Blacks that afternoon. He sighed. Those visits will be frequent during the summer, to his chagrin. At least Matthew would be there too, as well as Serafino. If he was lucky, the Lord would show up and would distract Bellatrix.

He was raising his wand to cast a cleaning spell on his shoes when it his him. Tom. Her mother called him Abraxas, the previous day, and accused him to cheat on her with Tom.

There was a Tom in the list he made with Matthew.

Lucius hurried to the cabinet where he kept his lecture notes. He took a few minutes to find that research specifically, rolled up with an old History of Magic homework.

It was just a list of names, from which most had been crossed. “Tom Riddle” was indeed in it but it was one of the crossed names. Why did they exclude him? Lucius couldn’t remember. He took some other notes from the cabinet and found another parchment which listed words apparently without any connection with each other: black, deceased, checked… Each matched a name of the first list. Without having both, none made sense. Lucius compared them – and almost dropped the papers.

Tom Riddle’s name matched a word he wouldn’t ever put in relation with the Lord: halfblood.

He straightened everything and put it back into the cabinet. That must be a mistake. However disturbing, his father might have had another lover before the Lord.

However, Lucius knew he’d be looking into Tom Riddle’s life as soon as he’d get the occasion.

Since he’d taken his writing tools from the closet, he finished quickly his letter to Clint. Knowing him, his company would be starting before the end of July. Better anticipate and make him a proposition. Lucius based it on the long business discussions they’d carried on during the year, hoping it would be convincing, and using his own money to avoid his father’s interference. He got out of the room with the letter ready; it would be a good excuse if anyone wanted to know why he stayed in his rooms so late.

He gave the letter to his owl then went to breakfast. An elf announced his father was busy and his mother would be eating in her rooms from now on. The news depressed him and he barely ate. He continued ruminating dark thought until it was time to leave.

Cygnus welcomed them with a sweaty handshake while his wife glared at Lucius. Bellatrix didn’t care to talk to him, even when he gave her the gift he prepared – with few readiness, for sure, but it was still worth several galleons.

They endured a good hour in the adults’ company before Matthew and his father arrived. The _children_ were then excused and Bellatrix disappeared in her room to Lucius’ delight.

“Things don’t seem to get better between the two of your”, Matthew pointed out.

“This is _Bellatrix_. Did you have doubts?”

“Well, you could _try_.”

Lucius glared. Matthew snorted.

“Are you sure you want to get on with this betrothal? You never could stand her. You only forget you’re supposed to hate each other when you fight.”

“And I still never present her my back”, Lucius grumbled. “You’re funny with your suggestions. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Why not? If you refused, your father would drag you to the altar with an _Impero_? Or would he league his fortune to his other heir?” Matthew mocked.

Lucius sighed.

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t. If you don’t stand up to your father, you’ll never be able to choose anything. You’re forging your own cage, Lucius.”

Lucius shook his head. Malfoy’s name included responsibilities. He always knew he wouldn’t choose his wife. Only… He hoped she wouldn’t happen to be the person he liked _least_ , without even thinking about the fact Bellatrix rubbed herself against the Lord like some heating cat, and in public, to make it worst.

The wedding wouldn’t take part before he finished Hogwarts anyway. He still had two years. Lucius would rather not worry about it for the time being.

“Do you think there’s a place here where we could talk without being heard?”

Matthew winced.

“All depends of the degree of confidentiality you’re looking for. It’s still Black’s house.”

“Your special project.”

Worry and curiosity fought on Matthew’s face. In the end, the latter won.

“You found something?”

“My mother let slip a name… Do you have paper?”

Matthew shook his head, desperate. Never short of ideas, Lucius dragged him to the bathroom. If the others imagined things, good for them. After all, what could possibly say Abraxas if the Black broke the betrothal because they thought Lucius was gay? The idea was almost tempting.

He closed the door behind them and casted a discretion spell, turning his back to the mirror.

“There. The paintings won’t be able to hear here.”

“You’re that impatient?” Matthew sounded amused. “I’m sure Sam wouldn’t be against us getting closer, but…”

“ _Matthew_.”

The teenager laughed.

“Sorry. So, a name, you were saying?”

“Yes, it is…”

A potent magical aura unfurled in the house, stopping him frozen. The Lord just arrived. He exchanged a glance with Matthew who shook his head. They got out of the bathroom silently and went back to the small living room where their parents left them. Bellatrix was already there, stamping withimpatience.

“They’re going to call us! I hope my sisters are coming quickly…”

In the next room, the Lord’s presence pulsed, oppressing and fascinating both. They only had to wait a minute before Andromeda and Narcissa Black joined them. They hurried and were breathing hard; good for them, because they were called next door a moment later only.

“Ah!” the Lord exclaimed, delighted. “The new generation. Please, be at ease”, he continued when they bowed.

As if anyone could be at ease with him in the room, especially with this pulsing magic all around them. Lucius hoped it stayed within the house’s walls or the Aurors might join the party as well.

He seated at the other side of the table, like the other teenagers. Voldemort kept Bellatrix next to him.

“Please, show us how talented you are.”

The young woman smiled brightly at him, like a heroine for a bad romance, despite the cold emitted by Abraxas. Lucius felt sick. What was worse? Knowing his father was the Lord’s lover or look at his fiancée stealing a march on him?

Lucius repressed a sigh. Matthew was livid, next to him. But then, he was right to be so, Lucius realized. He wasn’t marked yet! He’d escaped the ceremony by staying in Hogwarts during Christmas but he couldn’t do that during the summer.

“That won’t be now”, Lucius whispered. “Too many people.”

“Sometimes he does it in public”, Matthew answered on the same tone.

“Not for people like us.”

Matthew snorted.

“Always so self-confident, Malfoy.”

Lucius nodded, relieved to see some color back on his friend’s cheeks.

“Does it hurt?”

They both winced and turned at young Narcissa, who just asked that question.

“Don’t look at me like that, _you_ launched the topic.” Then seeing them glancing worryingly to the adults, she laughed softly. “They’re too busy pretending to admire my sister to please Him. So?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt”, Luciud admitted.

Narcissa seemed relieved. However, she insisted:

“But?”

“But what?”

“There is a _but_ , I could hear it in your voice.”

This girl was way too smart for Lucius’ tastes. Well, after all, she was a Slytherin too. With her family so close to the Lord and her bitch sister who probably didn’t tell anything… She had the right not know.

“It’s not unpleasant at all. Quite the contrary in fact.”

Lucius talked quickly but he noted Andromeda opened her eyes wide. Narcissa only nodded.

“I see. Thank you for telling me.”

The conversation slipped then to lighter topics. The mark’s shadow stayed on them, though, until the night fell and the Lord got up.

“It’s time for me to give to the ladies the opportunity to enjoy their meal, especially since I’ll be busy during the night.” He inclined his head to Bellatrix, smiling. “Would you like to join me, miss?”

“I’ll go wherever you want, my Lord!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm.

“Perfect. Abraxas?”

“I’m coming.”

“Lucius, what about you?”

The teenager winced, surprised. The Lord wanted to go on a mission with two children? That was a first. Bellatrix and he were way above average level, yes, but Aurors were still trained fighters…

Bellatrix taunted him from afar. No way to be the coward in front of her! Lucius bowed.

“Of course, my lord.”

“Perfect. Let’s meet at the Manor hall in half an hour.”

He Apparated along with Bellatrix without waiting for their approval. Abraxas turned to Cygnus to bid farewell. Lucius did the same with the youngest then hurried to the manor with his father.

That night, he was going to kill again.

 

 

 

(1) Richard III Act V scene III, Shakespeare.


End file.
